Some days I actually noticed how grey it was All of this space, here around us As our half-beaten stone trodden 52 bus Rolls into its unfortunate terminus. Terminal more like.
The shops have boarded windows, Bakeries have bullet-proof counters Staffed by bulky bakers-***-bouncers A praised underground centre for perilous shopping Dodge rival factions on various floors Fighting for stair supremacy And burly painted girls with latent spent applause
Some colour on the underpass is some relief Only it warns of impending doom for someone soon