See the worn-out young faces disillusioned eyes of youth flickering in sympathy with dying neon lights.
Junkie princes of a timeless world where the only value of darkness is in the chill embrace of midnights brief concealment.
With city roads of solitude waiting to greet another overdose, coffee bar refugees clad in torn and fading denim ragged as our dreams.
Postpone awhile the semi-conscious ride in the back of a metropolitan police van.
The opiate parade with scripts in hand no longer questioned by the chemist though expected by the Middlesex just a mattress on the floor with the minimum nursing care.
Another day on the shit end of a stick before doctors nights in cardboard bedrooms and breakfast with Sally Ann.
Forgotten expectations and discarded purpose join the cardboard in the G.L.C dust wagon.
We walk the streets or hangout around the Dilly hustling for a punter or two not pedalling hard luck stories just finding ways of getting by.