My Streets

My Streets


My streets are paved with cobblestone,
grey brick buildings and old thatched homes.
During the day it's as silent as the grave,
When in peace the old spirits roam.
Though at night there is little silence,
The young and wicked come to play.
Though at night there is little peace,
I'd hate to say they've come to stay.
They sprint naked through the night,
They laugh and yell by bonfire's light.
They are the living, their souls rough,
Their minds weak, their hearts tough.
I'd hide from their bohemian sight,
Though they not look for me, try as I might,
And I'm overwhelmed with a maddening flood,
For they do not realize our likeness in blood.
My streets are paved in the light of day,
For at night I'm at home in my mind.
And these wretched fools that dance away,
I'd hate to see their darkness will blind.
For what is forsaken is taken away,
And for their bohemian night I pined.
Though now I know it's all the same,
To ashes they'll burn, their bones I'll grind.
I'll eat their hearts, so foolish and raw,
I'll eat their brains, their veins I'll gnaw,
I'll eat their stomachs, small and grey,
For their dreams will die in turn of the day.
Though the bonfires they still will light,
As more will come to vanquish the night.
And I'll still be alone, with no one to play,
For everyone knows, monsters hunt in the day.