In the world of few lanes, barely do they stand,
In a hope of ground, they tumble down the mountain,
And , wait for one's call in the lane that joins a cemetery land...

All they've ,get down in dawn from the eyes of dusk,
And, buy a rest in night by all their collections,
And, in the dwell in some address
That direct to nowhere and from nowhere...


The life of compromised,on many compromises,
Where some deatha become a few surmises,
The desires they hope are sands a fist piles ,
That sums of nothing and for nothing........