The tenements where lights shine bright
November’s fog can’t hide their fights
The fog will rise then mist will meet
These callous roads, these bloody streets
For silence rules and no-one hears
The cries of pain, they live in fear
They dare not talk, pretend they’re blind
The one who’s dead is not their kind.
He’s not from here, they don’t weep
They’ve seen it all and therefore keep
Their mouths tight shut, all doors are closed
To the bloodied body, at their close.
The sandstone blocks hide all their sins
A million lies are held within
Someone saw who took the knife
And plunged it in, to end a life
But who will talk and who will not
The ones who saw it, just forgot.
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Comments about this poem (Street Life. by PAUL COLVIN )
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