Some say that the old ones are the best.
Others that they are merely the oldest.
This ‘song’, which fell out a drawer recently, belongs to the latter.
The melody shall remain locked away.
Ran on down through the night
Passed the high shot pusher on the corner,
A hundred hungry faces cried
A thousand tears of sorrow.
Saw the lost on the pavements
Met the all-day fallen on park benches,
Watched the closing of cafes
The all night sanctuaries.
A street light lit the alley
Old man crying in the gutter alone,
Hollow girls in the doorways
Promise of escape for some.
A wallet slips into the night
A thousand hands reach for offering,
A knife shines in the road
The broken hearts reach out.
Night time lovers flit across the sky
Don’t hear the dying breaths downtown,
The misplaced and abandoned
Souls that can’t go on.
The downtown joys of such men
Can’t feel the pain of life,
Too many broken hearts
Which live on borrowed time.