Two cents in pockets,
a cell, some cigarettes,
I was walking my way.

It was two a.m. in my dreams.
The boulevards where covered by dusk
and dust,
plus a scent of lust
perfumed
my skin

I kept walking,
head held high towards the moon,
Stepping the streets to the rhythm
of a peculiar tune,
Well known,
It was a Christmas carol,
the jingles and Bells,

"Where is santa Clause?"

Arrived soon at home.
To awake,