January 21, 2008
By Stephanie Grilo, Keller, TX

Shoes had no soles, but our feet kept treckin' on
It seemed like 300 miles, but we kept treckin' on
Imaginary, ordinary, crazy son-of-a-guns
With their 6th street smiles all so lost without the sun

Underneath the bridges, we bargained for some time
Left a mark in our brain, but left without a fine
We were back on our feet, back on the quest
To settle by some peace, in this town far from rest

Stopping to hear fragments of licks
From blues, to reggae, with rythems so sick
Melodies roamed about the open bars
Where our stomping grounds were free from cars

Slips of propaganda passed around
Selling us sex, music, freedom;
but left lonely on the ground

Hobos and freak shows ask for spare change; what a change
"Smile, Anything Helps." they say
So I threw up my peace sign and was on my way

City bus route crowded with night life
took us far from reality, with a fifty cent price
Faces in the front spat tipsy words
Left us, burb-born-kids, affraid of the absurd

Where the journey ended, sleep did follow
Wrapped in the warmth of summer's dark hallow
As our eyes found darkness, closed in their nests
The night lived on, in this city far from rest

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