Within a long, dusty labyrinth,
Somewhere in the city of crocodiles,
Scores of rusted roofs,
Shining like pieces of broken glass in the sun,
Dot your skyline.

Beneath these roofs lies your utility
Lasses inhabit the amorous sanctuaries,
Gliding in birthday suits,
Negotiating, conferring and appropriating,
Their worth,
To laddies looking for emotional catharsis.

Within these weak walled confines,
Lasses and laddies,
Soak and swim in drums of lager,
Keeping them in a permanent state of delirium.
And cacophonies of digital and analogue sounds,
Seem unable to bring down the walls.

Within these weak walled confines,
Budding lasses and green laddies receive inaugural sermons,
On matters of the flesh,
Welcome to Mosafuneto Street, where night is brighter than day!
@babsiwalewa (twitter)

n.b-image sourced from http://www.google.com