We have cried mess ,a perfect mess
We manage to keep in our manholes,
Our city of growing filth and sewage.
We protest against decadent culture
Of star hotels, where we buy nights
For six thousand bucks in dark dough.
Days are not free of particulate matter,
Nights dark and blind to human knots
In a perfect state of aggregate health.
We wade where others are dead sea
A gross aggregate in steel and paint,
And curse all of them for sticky mess.