I walk upon the horrid streets
And I must feel forlorn,
My hopes, my dreams have flown away
As though they’d never been born.
I live upon the Western streets
And receive abuse and scorn,
From foul-mouthed swine and harridans
All my promises gone.
The torrid streets are killing me
And all those milling round,
Our dreams of moving on have died
So now we’re moving down.
We’re moving down to Barkly Street
Where only losers move,
We’re facing evil lies and scorn
Slander and foul abuse.
I’m living in the torrid streets
Now all my hopes have died,
I walk upon the concrete streets
Just hoping to survive.
© Copyright 2011
© Copyright 2016 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.