Hope Street

Downtown smells of laundry,
uptown smells of dough;
turn left up a snicket,
run on, down you go,
to a street that’s named for someone
no-one seems to know.

Out of broken windows,
a local radio show;
a band predicting riots
from twenty years ago,
on streets that lead to nowhere
anyone wants to go. 

But the wind is blowing northward
bringing money from the show,
the sound of chinese whispers
as the lies begin to flow 
to the ear of God - or The Devil -
how would anyone know?