This City

In this city people talk in a walking sleep, head to the floor, chattering, clanking, clacking bores. Their jaws to feet, little sheep with pavement sounds, around and around, smoke sucking in lucky dollar bills and sin. Trying thrills for odd looks to kill friends don't know love won't own any inside walls crawling home to roam, lost costs sanity humanity. In this city people talk in a walking sleep, head to the floor, chattering, clanking, clacking whores.