cold hearted town, pt. 2
taxpayers, the
thick black smoke hangs low
every other business closed
the smell of rotting meat
two hundred thousand people living in tents along the street
go buy a suicide connection
or a child for half the price: you can treat him like a dog
and only feed him bowls of rice
this is a place of constant anguish
if you can scale the razor walls and try to leave
you might get out of this