Canned black beans
Line the brick walls
Underneath a tragic sun
Berating the bald heads
Of the cigar smoking dice throwers
Valuing nothing
But the smoke in their lungs
The fat ***** trucking by in their eyes
And the love for their kids
They work all day for
So they can study things they
Wouldn't even waste time trying to spell

Spinning guilefully in the corner
Of the repressed two bedroom apartment
Two grayed broken down dogs
One with a back left leg that's short
The second blind
Sit biting at each other's butts
Like Ouroboros
Screeching whenever one of their tooths
Would cross to deep
Into the skin

The tiles of the ceiling
Are browned from the dust
Whipping in from the wind
From outside
There was little anyone could do
Seeing there were no blinds,
No shutters, or windows.

Hooligans vagrant rocks
As well as being poor
Had a way of holding back repairs