Their is a god behind the sheet of paper; soaked by the gray rain on the wet floor
Broken pen from the beginning of the poet, the papers started to drop and no one was their
The yellow street lights can't reach the ground, the old inked, paper and pen was dropped for another one
The last one sealed their eyes by the man in their skin, disappeared into the ally ways, did the shadows take them?
As one walked by, the next victim was set picking up the last paper and pen on the flooded concrete; this is part two
It crawls under their dripping water umbrella, with them until their past was flooded with their future