Month End City

This time of the month, garbage trucks rolling around
Dropping residue muck and slime in the streets
Smells like vomit and discarded meat.
Walking to my destination while smoking
Young beggar asks me for a smoke, I ask him,
how old are you? He asks me, how old are you?
I'm old enough to smoke, I say
Then persued by his friend, asking for change
I tell him to get lost, then someone else yells at me
I keep my pace, keep my stare, keep walking
Train ticket queues are long, I'll come back later
Keep on walking, avoid talking, even the seagulls feel sick