The
city never sleeps
In
the wee hours of the morning
There
are still the night crawlers
They
want to catch the last breath
The
night will bring before the light
In
the backlanes I remember
The
drug addicts, hookers and pimps
They
will gather waiting for late supper
The
money to tide over tomorrow
Else
nothing but growing hungry or pain
Sometimes
drunkards sleep
They
don't remember where they go
They
just want to sleep it over
Talking
rubbish shouting loudly in the quiet night
The
acrid smell; the bags of rubbish, in the tongs
Around
posh hotels and bars the women flow
The
nights are young the time is money
They
have the marks on them as every bell captain knows
The
black book the names to call in time of a need
They
earned commissions getting by in their lives
The
city never sleeps
The
bursting night life
The
bad of the night
The
wolves howl badly
The
city dwellers pray and hope
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