City slickers born to tumble will never make your mountain rumble, take me to the parts that matter in amongst the titter tatter the coffee table ilks and dramas cotton caftans and silk pyjamas humming cars that cough and splutter silver coins lost in the gutter tabloid men in sharp pressed suits trample down the fallen fruits nothing sacred in this old town except a peptic ulcer and a furrowed frown.
Not necessarily referring to a real town or city, more a reflection on social integration and life.