At dusk`s eerie cry:
Winds prevailing in no direction,
hurricanes lacking a calm eye.
Twilight walkers deceased in spirit.
Our quest begins.
A damned trade trailing on quicksand.
Plummeting on a city pavement.
Eyes gape reflecting thought-
disdain in decent women,
impertinence from men,
All screech- "Woman of the night."
Even I aspire for a stable port.
Dreams of discovering the land of Home.
My lewd road still shamefully driven
Only comfort a compass
without North needle.