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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.

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