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.