In the city,
in the street,
the rubbish blown street,
there is a car on fire and acrid smoke,
acrid smoke rising higher and higher,
and in the city, and in the street,
the car burns brightly,
and the flames engulf everything,
and they dance their devilry,
as the car explodes,
in the city street,
great showers of metal and glass fall down,
vandalism complete,
in the city, in the city street,
and the wind it blows this way and that,
and the rubbish it carries in the wind,
as the sirens wail and a fire engine rushes to the scene,
and a man walks away down the street with a smile,
and with his hands and his body,
smelling of petrol and kerosene,
he punches his fist in the air,
and he shouts something obscene, a victory of no meaning,
but a victory to him all the same for he has no shame,
no shame, and a very small brain and off he trots,
and he thinks, forget the cost,
because it is a cheap night in the city,
and all it cost was small change,
and he certainly will not complain,
unlike the person whose car it is,
who soon will be standing there,
screaming in anger in the rain,
but the man who started the fire will soon be long gone,
but he does not contemplate that he has done any wrong,
for his morals are totally lost,
and education is not his strong point,
but it does not matter to him all the same,
because the man only has a small brain,
because the man only has a small brain,
but still, he manages to be obnoxious,
and idiotic and ignorant all the same.
