this place is alive all night long
there's always walking around
giggling, talking to someone
this has more adults than mall
i bet you could make living by
selling shoes to these youngsters
i don't like the slamming door
shook my teeth out of its roots
dislodge dust from their roast
this place is beehive on steroids
i am bee squeaking in this cube
i can't even bend my long legs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem