The turntable spins for me, ’round and ’round

The city right of me makes its looping sound

Cars bound for cliffs or the direction of nowhere

It could be me there, but what do I care?

A bone shaking wind blows through my windowsill

Sitting here, i’m the only one that’s feeling it still

An ethereal echo of a passerby’s whistling

Or the lovers bus stop chance for kissing

A city can only drown out your own sound

But it takes so much to make pictures drown

(The wafting breeze of a midnight smoke

Awakens me gently when I began to choke)

They are gentlemen and ladies, gamblers 

And lovers, fighters and drunken ramblers

The sick, the healed, the powerful are tamed

Angels born of nothing who need to be saved

I walk around the joint a fair bit to see

What lungs these streets breathe free

With. They all look so hard, but so fun!

They are all lost, looking for someone

Harrow not, twilight moon, so debonair

Pass down your beauty, give them air!

They see you alone, alone, alone

Up in the darkness, all on your own

Let them see you as they walk in full

Dress, past the crippled so frightful!

If our wind is blowing within your manners

Please see past our dresses and blazers

I don’t know them, I never did

I just let things slide, as I put on

my headphones

and sneak past the streetlight,

fading once again into the night

All routine;

The voyeur of class conflict