He sat in faded dungarees
Old slouch hat on balding head
Said "write the words for me boy
There's words that must be said"
I did my time and paid the price
For a drug filled violent youth
I thought I was the main man
And had a role to keep
You know what I mean
Anyway son I pulled a gun and shot him in the head
Then laughed at his crying wife and kids
As he took his last dying breath
I walked away without a second glance
After all he should have shown respect
Respect! Yeah I was the main man on the street

Anyway for thirty years I pondered what I'd done
Eventually came to realize
Only notoriety comes from the barrel of a gun
Inside I was nothing
All ill gained fame was gone
Now just a number wearing leg irons
Cutting weeds beneath the sun

Tell them for me boy
That it just ain't worth the cost
Write the words I tell you
Get the message out there
Before more young boys are lost

Squint scurried.
From rooftop to rooftop,
He skipped and he flipped as he
Scrambled amongst the tiles,
The blur of slate was his domain,
As, through the haze of reckless speed,
The slowly revolving City
Did imprint upon his vision.
So that as his sly lids descended
Its outline he admired;
Its screaming centre he desired.

In the end even Squint cannot run forever.
So he will slow, and shade his eyes,
Catch his breath and gaze and sigh.

And when he’s had his fill of the sights and the smog.
Down he slides amongst the pipes
Of better folk; of harder folk,
Of those with Proper Names
Like ‘Welder’ and ‘Melder’
And ‘Roland’ and ‘Fairer’.
Names that came after a ‘Mr’,
A ‘Lord’ or a ‘Sister’.
Names that one Day he would have for his Own.
For in the Glass City, Names were always changin’ hands.

Squint.
Not much of a Name,
Even for one so young as he
It would seem he would deserve
A Name of much more worth
Than simple, humble ‘Squint’.

But Squint lived up to his Name.
He may look young and full of fun,
But crouch on a wall and you might just
Be appalled to see that not a moment after
Squint is left alone, his eyes will glitter.
And if any Man’s flesh could ever express such malicious scheming,
It was the writhing face of our humble Squint,
Once his eyeballs set to gleaming.