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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