Chris McCabe
New York, New York
a hell hole of a town
The sewer smoke rises while the drag queens go down on the affluent businessman
Son of Sam city
Asshole of the Universe
Perverse beyond pity
Machinery greased by the meek of her masses
while priests seek their Jesus up little boys' asses
Her glory's behind us
Bomb's ticking
T-Minus ten seconds and counting
Nine
Eight
The apple is rotting but the worms keep plodding along
never spotting the cancer that's eating straight down to her core
as the rats crave for more than the scraps off the occasional kid in the trash can
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