Each big town has its one way street,
where life seems to flow to an ebb.
A street where danger and pleasure meet,
and its victims are caught in a web.
Myriads of people who drifted there
in youth came seeking fortune and fame.
Remained to become too old to care;
Now they're just pawns in the game.
Bright lights and music lure you there.
The drugs and wine make you stay.
Dreams you once cherished die of despair,
while life, like the night, slips away.
The "lords" of the street paint everything nice,
but they demand a huge toll.
When you are commanded to pay the price,
you pay with your body and soul.
For many who have come in years gone by,
the street is their only bed.
The price they have paid is much too high
for home with the living dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.