I can walk sentimental streets
Without being ashamed of my smile,
Yes, I can walk with pride
At my being, at my being alive.
The marriage of the breeze with
The perfumes of flowers growing
In between concrete scars
And the gasoline from passing cars
Lingers thoughtlessly in the air.
Still I look down at my steps
Going forward, never missing a beat.
I am in the city now, and it is full,
It never feels constrictive or contrived
No matter how many ads plague the skyline
They are just part of the feature.
My sentimental street is another river to the sea,
A free and open society.
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