Hyde Street, SF

At the backend of the Tenderloin

They are lost in the Sparkling City

With sagging breasts and sagging faces

Where we help them to hide

Because we don’t even see them

Because they walk with a jerk in their stride

Because they shout at all the fucking bastards

In voices that shatter the air.

So what is their story?

It’s the gravity of life that gives you no breaks

While your mind is screaming

And you just want a feeling

That you’re someplace else but there’s no other place.

They are lost where nobody wants to find them

Where there’s too many dead ends on Hyde Street.

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