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East End, Where the Toughs Hang Out
If you want to find out what it's all about,
Go to East End, where the toughs hang out;
Where street-smart girls, their skirts unfurled-
Through the wicked streets whirl.
Nights down there-always stark,
Hipcats smiling in the dark;
And the sun shines down through all the days-
Down on wayward ways!
Dead flowers lie in the street,
As people run from the heat.
Rose tattoo and butterfly;
Ruby lips; mascara eye.
Motorcycles in the mist,
Flashing lights; clenched fist;
They move as if in a craze,
Through the city's maze.
In the streets and alleyways, they clash,
Seasons change with a splash,
But, warriors ever, ever advance-
Though they haven't a chance!
If you want to find out what it's all about,
Go to East End, where the toughs hang out;
In leather pant, and faded jean-
It's noplace, if you get what I mean.
Copyright ©
Evelyn Judy Buehler
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