City
almost  done now,
the fun somehow has left these streets,
but weary feet are tramping home, sick to death and weary to the bone.

Rtoseberry avenue
postcode EC1 and then
it's gone.

Clerkenwell green,
scene of many unpleasantries leaves me and on to St John's street and
more city feet.

Old street not paved with gold except for the elite and more weary feet tramping on.  

It's the end of another day and the city always had its way with the few and the lucky ones escaped by bus,
not us,
we went hobo on the city street, tramps and dodgy people, feet so sore and where if when we look to see the Shoreditch box park know we are not far or free of Hackney and the night falls dark across me.

I do
I do
Said twice, but in my heart I knew it wasn't so.

I go because I must've been and seen it all before and though I know it's rotten to the core it draws me like a magnet and I am being trawled by some megaline or dragnet.

The streets beat me down and the pirates in this ***** town have stolen me away,
just another bedtime story written underneath the evening stars and just another ending of the day.