In the market place they are selling, pipes to smoke your dreams upon
and the coffee trader shuts up shop and yet decides to linger on,
the pots and pan man is making eyes at
the widow woman, who tells him,
go away and free your sorrows
when you come back bring the gin
and
the rain comes down in tinsel town
and
the streets all disappear,
it could have happened only yesterday but you
know it was last year.