Infected needles and beer bottles litter the ground,
back there where the city is a muted sound.
This is where they hide, sell, trade.
Trying to survive, dying to get paid.
Darkened by the shadows, untouched by light;
It is the playgrounds of fiends in the cold night;
Tainting the hearts of those trying to survive;
And there is no difference between dead or alive.
Rats and roaches call it their home,
to most of the city it remains unknown.
As soon as you step into this putrid black,
you'll know you've been snared in a perilous trap.
Those who enter might not ever return,
But it is the simple punishment incurred.
To those who dare step foot in this world,
Don't cast eyes on suffering stained pearls.
Where "don't come back without a G"
and "****** a gram for me?"
Turns into
"wait after *** for money"
and "here's a discount, my treat".