The Night This City Burned

And the lions lay in their beds

On their backs, with the fans blowing the night air away

And the topless dancers collect dollar bills

From the sailors and street-wise foes

Who know all to well

It’s not safe to go home

The dinner will be served at 8

Baked beans shoveled in

Pure boredom and a skittish grin

Folks like us should be locked away

Maybe studied, most likely just left for dead

Now Bobby was hit by that train

And Nancy only comes around after sundown

Cliff is lost in Utah

Probably never to be seen again

And the dogs will own the streets

And the Pope will give one last prayer

Saying all is lost

Make sure to wear your best underwear

Don’t get caught without them, or matches

To burn this place to the ground

Leaving more for the bugs to sift through

And time moves along

And alone

At the very same speed

It always had

And always will

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

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