The Silent Street

In silence I keep on brooding
why it's me all the time,
while you folks are sleeping
I witness all the crime?

By a lonely light on the street
a beggar counts his coins,
a hooker is poised to greet
a bloke who eyes her loins.

In neon of the red lit zone
all dark sides come to light,
when sins are bared to the bone
under the cloak of a luring night

I watch lights go to sleep
one by one in your homes,
from some I hear a shriek
from some, frenzied moans.

When those sounds fade out
I hear those stealthy feet,
it's time for some to loot
while some move on to kill.

I nurse my bleeding wound
still aching from that blast,
which brought all to ground
with dread of a holocaust.

The stars have stopped blinking
fading one by one,
the moon too is dipping
gently touching horizon.

The angels done with rounds
of blessing all their kin
knowing still not what sin
swept them off the ground.

In silence I'm still brooding
why it's me all the time,
while you folks are snoozing
I witness all the crime?