Where I go to break and build

 I walk the short distance to where I must break myself
Uneven pavement gives it's greeting footfall sound
half dry as the sun stretches and peaks down 
A pebble or two roll out of the way
On their way to the gutter laying

I walk to the place that splits me in two
What kind of man am I
The curb talks but nothing it says is true
the way life is like an apple core
Cheap metaphors

I avoid a cigarette butt and an insect dead
The shoe on my foot continues to tread
|driven on by my foot by my will to shock myself
The gossip that Cobble stone shop fronts do
I look up into that Taubate blue

The roundabout looms like a fierce circus
What kind of man? Question makes me giddy
The mesh fence screams -who am I kidding
The pavement weed stares at him indifferently
The sun gives a speech about it's own heat

I get to the turnstile
Am I falling apart
Coming a new
What kind of man am I
Under Taubate blue