The dirty streets
And broken people
Run down factories
And general store
Seem to call
From filthy gutters
Their words
Knocking at my door.
The prostitutes
The people
The drunkards
Characters all
The drug addicts
And the fallen
To lifes cruelty
Seemed to call.
Violence
On the corners
At 3am
Blood to spill
The underbelly
Of society
A different world
That seems to thrill.
A place without
Gods or angels
Preaching survival
To each and all
The homeless
And forgotten
I just seem
To hear their call.