Where they come
to wake,
where they come to drift yet.
Where they come to dream,
where they come to forget.
Where they come to be seen,
where they come to hire.
Where they come to escape,
where they come to inspire.
Where they come to create,
to gaze and to idle.
Where they come to refuel,
where they come to drift yet.
Where they come to dream,
where they come to forget.
Where they come to be seen,
where they come to hire.
Where they come to escape,
where they come to inspire.
Where they come to create,
to gaze and to idle.
Where they come to refuel,
indulge and
smile.
Where they come to reflect,
where they come to preach.
Where they hide in their skins
from the stones in the street.
Where they come to reflect,
where they come to preach.
Where they hide in their skins
from the stones in the street.
Beyond the
grind of the woods
and the barrels and screens
with paper and card
and the barrels and screens
with paper and card
and coffee
beans,
on crates of themselves
in a sea of rabbis
on crates of themselves
in a sea of rabbis
they come here to
reckon
and forge their
alibis.
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