Urban Still Life

A formation of stoned giants An’ the pavement full of bodies and reflected in the blinds men and women walking hotly. Advertising shields they promise in the heaven to take pleasure, in a multistory hospice – folks – they cannot be at leisure. Fumed flesh waits for a vacation. ‘Cause of petrol burnt in air, there is only one salvation – wine to buy at where it’s near. Nerves of streets you ever scorch to the innermost of brain. Fortune carries here a torch for a winner in the game.