4am some idle Tuesday,
couldn’t tempt the sandman my way.
Tired of staring at the ceiling.
Sleep’s a dream, I’m up and leaving.
Through the gate, reverse.
Time to escape and traverse.
Through the gate, stop onto the street.
The place where Lawrence and Clyde meet.
Pimping, pushing, someone’s ghost,
every light a hitching post.
Coming home to Central town.
The place where it all goes down.
Champagne and Cocaine, in the loon cocoon.