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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2169768
some reflections on the past and present of my hometown.
The ghosts of the River Valley
Call to me from the old mill stacks
and the dirty streets I once wandered,
now peopled by walking corpses
trying to get their next fix;
Next to death, next to life.

Next to death, next to life;
The ghosts of the River Valley
trying to get their next fix
Call to me from the old mill stacks,
now peopled by walking corpses
and the dirty streets I once wandered.

And the dirty streets I once wandered,
Next to death, next to life,
now peopled by walking corpses;
The ghosts of the River Valley,
Call to me from the old mill stacks,
trying to get their next fix.

Trying to get their next fix;
And the dirty streets I once wandered,
Call to me from the old mill stacks.
Next to death, next to life;
The ghosts of the River Valley,
now peopled by walking corpses.

Now peopled by walking corpses
Trying to get their next fix,
The ghosts of the River Valley
And the dirty streets I once wandered,
Next to death, next to life,
Call to me from the old mill stacks.

Call to me from the old mill stacks,
Now peopled by walking corpses
“Next to death, next to life.”
Trying to get their next fix,
And the dirty streets I once wandered;
The ghosts of the River Valley.

The ghosts of the River Valley
And the dirty streets I once wandered,
Trying to get their next fix.
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