Nothing grows along skid row, the
dead end of the town,
hopes and dreams glean little light as
poor folk settle down to eat,
*** noodle feasts, feasts indeed
for those in need, some say, 'a *** too far'.
as they themselves would settle down
to eat of caviar.

'God rest ye merry Gentlemen',
you den of thieves, no
one believes your charity,
your heart is filled with poverty and
yet,
how well you sleep, while others keep
the wolves at bay.