The town I live in
Tells many different tales.
There is the working class, which of course never fails
Carrying their lunch boxes to work,
Leaving from their home with the biggest grin
Only to come home very tired
With a kind of angry smirk.
They pass the crowded walls
Which are full of tagging
That seems like its life.
The writers running through trash filled allies.
What you thought I was going to rhyme with life?
Hell no out here in the streets, it’s crazy.
People walking down the streets with eyes kind of hazy.
That’s is the town I live in.
