Where are the actors, the dreams, the scripts, the stages of this town?
The desires, the mortal fears, and unwashed rages of this town?
I cannot see where sorrow dissolves and love enters the room.
It seems that love is a subtle set of cages in this town.
As methane gas is the lightest fraction when crude oil is cracked,
So astronauts watch bright plumes of waste blazing near this town.
So burn the wishes when the soul is hungry for more than bread.
All I did was scratch, drink, claw and lose my wages in this town.