Solitary figures dance in the rain
Silhouetted by city lights
they sing a song of joy, they sing a song of pain.
A barkers cry can be heard up the street, taste the candied joy, so tender, so sweet. The drunkard crawls from his cluttered hovel, to seek his dinner and wine, only to return to once he had come. Shadowless specters, hunting, hiding, searching, seeking, for a new soul. Degraded by time, with broken windows and boarded doors, they show no sign, of life in the city.
