Eastern Light (Poem)
Eastern Light sneaking through the dirty window
Eastern Light sneaking through the dirty window
Badly waiting for a answer
Nothing new that could brake the stagnation
Flowing through the ghetto walls
Vodka miasma going slow
Trough the rusty concrete walls
Pinkish madams show their face
Gentle engaging in the ritual
Salty clouds from the eastern side
Little rooms with moldy crowns
Smelling of the old age
Going in an' out to escape the turmoil
To end wakin' , yet again
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