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Song of the City

Sirens howl in the street & the cafe,
Trying to pull you either way,
Like carnival barkers
Peddling heart ache & tragedy

The northwest wind whips around the corners,
Cruel & bitter, lashing the faces of us street toughs
Under the orange street lamps

It never grows fully dark here
The sky only gains a certain colour

I draw my coat up tight around my shoulders,
Shrugging, like a crow nestling itself beneath its dark wing

Never have I felt more cold
More alone
More alive

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