Bleak In A Blue's Hell's, City Poem by Mark Heathcote

Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city, aha
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city
Poison grows like cancer it appertains to deliver my fate
Threading through my veins Quicksilver of late
Brittle is my pride, preacher, I might as well be dying of incurable advanced lung, heart, kidney and liver disease.
Now all my hopes and all my empathy have dried up and died.
Lord, why am I here dying with all these other corrupted infidel fools
Lord, why am I here dying with all these other cynical tainted vultures.
…Singing my own brand of impotent blues

Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city, aha
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city,
Lord, oh how I wish someone would show me some care
Share a meal or two a comforting word or just a smile.
Sister, I'm a vagabond sleeping destitute
On the boulevards of loneliness
With a bottle of vodka in my right hand for company
Buskin for no men pities no man's pride.
There are many here like me fallen on hard times knows
Who I am but no one cares
About another impoverished infidel soul
No one understands; no one cares anymore.
Apart from that old whore trafficking her big blue eyes

Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city, aha
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city
Girl, it's my nightmare's trodden highway
Living with sewer rat's drifting with rogues
Begging in a subway
Just taking what each cold day doles out to me.
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city, aha
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city
Girl, they say I haven't long to live
And they haven't a broom store cupboard to give affordable
So, I'm sleeping on the boulevards of loneliness
Where some old junkie, might say, it's surreal, it's bliss
But surely to god, they're either stoned or pissed.
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city, aha
Bleak in a Blue's hell's, city.
That's the place the lay of the land I be.
This worlds a rotten peach you see
It's got a stone heart and that's all that's left of me.