Nearing the precipice
Cliff of change
Given to some weeks ago
Long familiar wooden bench
Friday night streets
Shiraz, Shiraz, Shiraz
Saluted by a stranger
Another solitary man
Walking home
Bag of dinner holds his hand
Bottle of wine for company
Two makes a party
The flauntly dressed confidently strut
Drunken girl sobs
Her bottle of spirit clashes the cement
Its liquid spills to the gutter
Crackhead takes my change
Sirens wail echo city walls
Blue lights reflect windows
Engines rev brakes squeal
And a familiar face walks by
All on Princess May Road
