A snapshot of 2 am

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We walk through our streets
Splashes of orange of pavement
The smell of rainwater on asphalt
To each her own life
I see a woman
With a painted face
The archetype of sin
A man
An old statue glued upon the
Paths of civilization
A paper cup, out of place
And yet
In this concrete jungle
Fitting in so well
We see neon
We smell dirt
This is

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