The sidewalk isn't long enough
So this is where we stay
Watching bright white tennis shoes scuff
Endless streaks of grey
Littered with drunk men's howls
"I know I should have made it"
Years go by and the stench only fouls
Mocking this ground we sit, degraded
The youngest is unlike them, he sits alone
Not admitting this place is his home
But like all others, he will begin to moan
Watching others walk the path he used to roam
