Those "other" streets downtown, 
where the real "downtown" is found, 
and the human condition is all run-down. 
where the classes clash, 
and the rat-racers smash, 
thugs rob, beat, and bash, 
And children get trashed.

Downtown, where some think it's fun to visit. 
They say, "We'll be cool, legit...., 
We're just going downtown 
to clown around a bit," 
but the piranha downtown 
don't clown around.
So, if you're the clown, 
you will be found face-down. 

There, its streets are like another planet 
for man-made concrete 
has displaced nature's trees,
like a frozen heart of granite,

Where it's easy to admit
that you might want to quit
going downtown.
Go there and see the dead-eyed stares, 
and the road-rage glares, 
bus-jingles selling Pringles 
and booze, 
and we all really lose 
because every single thing
about downtown 
with inequity mingles.

There I'm lost, 
you're lost, 
we're all lost. 
Because there's no parking
without a cost - 
for downtown, we're ticketed to a number, 
next to the park-bench bums 
who in their fridge-boxes slumber 
and try to pan-handle 
with every kind of swindle. 

For downtown is also the American scandal 
of homelessness, carelessness, bread-lessness, ... 
For we've fouled our own nest
from the plight of the homeless dispossessed.

There, people easily get locked in 
because the financiers of downtown's sin 
melt human beings into a low-income bin - 
a statue en masse 
whited gray jointly 
under a pigeon's ass.

Many forced to live downtown 
to the city's vice, become addicted. 
A lethal overdose is predicted 
because like heroin, fentanyl, or crack 
if you try to game downtown, 
there,  you'll find no lack, 
but only if you have the smack, 
or else you may
get a cap in the back.