Whose houses these are, nobody knows,
They may be inside houses, sans foes;
They cannot see me moving here,
To gaze at his house fill up with woes.
My pet dog might sense it jeer,
To move about any soul respire,
Amid the houses and dark lane,
The wildest evening of the year.
He asks his master barking tame,
To raise whether some game,
The solitary other noise the air,
Of biting winds and dark steam.
The city is ugly, dark and unfair,
Sick with fake and deadly glare,
No charm to breathe the toxic layer,
No charm to breath the toxic layer.
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