Basement Shine

Binbag pavement,

Basement shine,

Tuning up

To another line.

 

Doors are empty,

Lights all closed.

No one speaking,

No one knows.

 

Tatoed lady

Speaks in riddles;

Turns the cards,

As the fiddler fiddles.

 

Singing songs

His words are lies,

Draws his bow

At acheing skies.

In the basement shine.

 

Time ticks by

Down the telephone wires,

To the monotone chant

Of castrato choirs.

 

Light is fading

On the rusty grate

Let’s burn another secret

If it’s not too late.

 

And time still ticks

From the telephone mouth;

As the darkness comes,

So we all head south.

The basement rots

Streets are sickly,

To save ourselves

We’d better act quickly.

In the basement shine.