There couldn't be in these streets, of hoped for death and rain slicked dark, the possibility of the recent-new of guiltless lovers. And it seems in these windless alley ways of again and shadows, there could never be a child's smile. Hard to imagine the symmetry of sweet kind eyes looking into mine (big and brown), beneath the dim-yellow of street lamp's watch. Cannot believe the asphalt dusk and dreams, of these accusing cracked sidewalks, ever let sympathy pass. Was there ever unbroken or unfaded in these still gray streets of since forgotten? And will there ever be on these streets of hoped for death and rain slicked dark, the chance of a child's smile or the recent - new of guiltless lovers?