I walked along the city’s wrist
Crossed a vein
Nearly run over by a honking blood cell
I wonder what we did,
To wind up in this diabetic hell.
Her bony fingers scrape the sky
Clawing at heaven
But it’s all to no avail
I wonder what she did;
To become so grey and pale.
She doesn’t drive under a hundred miles per hour
She counts seconds like they’re pennies
And when it rains it pisses;
I wonder why and if
She ever wants to become that countryside she so desperately misses.
She’s a smoker
She’s a drinker
There’s no doubt about that;
Why, last week I saw her drunk down the high street
Letting men walk all over her, wearing a traffic cone for a hat.
Scantily clad in her miasma
Scathingly smiling as alluring as can be
She bleeds out into the country
Subtly reminds you- you’re in the city.