Streets of Fortitude
Through Fortitude Valley I stroll alone,
Along Brunswick Street at night,
Past a 24-hour pizza joint,
China Town’s off to the right.
An X-rated Cinema neon sign
Blinks crude movie names quite fast,
A homeless man asks, “Have you got a smoke?”
I say, “Sorry, I don’t!” as I pass.
The Mickey-D’s restaurant is crowded,
Big Mac addicts awaiting their fix.
An up-market Men’s Club ‘with Massage’,
Just a front for call girls turning tricks.
On a corner just up ahead
Police lights flash blue and red.
I daren’t wander very close,
In case some poor soul is dead.
I approach two schoolgirls looking lost,
Perhaps they missed their ride.
I hope they catch a taxi home,
There’s nowhere here to hide.
A drunk staggers out from the door of a bar,
Stumbles and falls to the ground.
He climbs to his knees and crawls back inside,
It’s just luck there’re no muggers around.
Sometimes I wonder why I’m here,
But the choice is not mine to make.
This week I work the graveyard shift,
It’s a job for goodness sake.
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