In the street of the promised land,I walked,

In its dense darkest paths.

Its silence was profound, so lonely a street, lifeless.

Only the coockoo sound of the owls,

And the slapdash motions of the bats, often hitting my head.

The stench from effluvia thrown throughout was chocking.

I saw its tears roll down, by the cracks of the walls full of graffiti,
Begging for mercy.

Then, something blew me off my feet,

A young lad on the run trailed by the law, then TWA TWA!

Down in a pool of blood he was.

A sad crowd surrounded the boy, shaking their heads and then it disappeared.

Screams from the south were heard of an old feeble lady.

Mother mourning son, who never came back with air in his lungs.

The only breadwinner.

Then, the promises recurred, of the powerful ones.

Once up there they will bring down gold rain.

Still waiting…