I walk along this city-jungle,
I should, by now, be immune to its disease;
I feel as dry and lifeless as paper,
Walking through the garbage and dead leaves.
I see the prostitutes,
I see the slimy pimps;
I watch the police ignore them,
I watch life, as it continues to limp.
The city seems a million years old,
The facade is totally blank;
Uninteresting and plain as paper,
Society is who we should thank.
The homeless people are lined up,
To receive their free meals;
I pass by without a care,
I hear people talking, making drug deals.
I'm thin as a sheet of paper,
A nameless ghost, as most people are;
A reanimated corpse,
Carrying the burden of a lifetime of scars.
