They glue sniffers are looked on with eyes of contempt
They can't bath and they can't read
Petrol and glue is their need
Down the back alley where pigeons feed
Flash jackets with good intentions that ridicule good intentions walk by
They have pomp and wit and several strategies for décor enhancement
They purvey as if to sell a message until they reach the wretches
Voiceless the smells and sights shock them out of criticizing
One of the glue sniffer kids wheezes on the fumes
the flash jacket get a whiff of my CK scents turns his face in disgust
One of the older glue heads thinks about robbing them
But heels that would sell souls to please the elite start clicking
The flash jackets hold their breaths as the glue sniffers argue and whistle
briskly the flash jackets reach their café of the all knowing contemporary standard
safely and soundly they begin to make the transformation
back to sipping overpriced coffee and judging and complaining about the rest of their flash friends
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