Criddler on the boof

The moon and the stars
Those distant howls from behind bars 

Subtle morning dew forming atop cars 

If you listen you can hear the city yawn 

The slow screech of the metro I travel 

Beneath as it gradually glides to a halt 

Sliding around corners with no fault

I was born into the night by sheer default

Brought up in the dark 

With an extra grain of salt 

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