One of the weakest in these harsh surrounds is pushing for a glimpse of freedom.
With violence in ever alley way and blood stains on all their clothing
She finds it hard to break away from the standards of the greater population.
She finds it harder still to fit in with them.

In this fast moving city nothing speaks louder than money, after all money is power and doesn’t everyone want to be powerful?
It seems that each person does bar her; everyone is starving, dying for supremacy.
She just wants a quiet place where a pedigree and a law degree aren’t compulsory.
She is going to find that place before it gets cemented over, like everything else that had once bloomed in her short, plain life.

Striding swiftly down the empty footpath, dodging glances from curious motorists.
She is on her way, out of town, to leave this concrete jungle just the way she found it.
To leave it as ugly and harsh as it had been when she arrived,
And she knows that once she leaves development will only make it more so.

There is no comfort to be had here, not a tree to shelter under, not a park in which to rest.
In the rush hour the people lose their pagers and their tempers as the crowd bustles past.
Everyone has somewhere to go and some job to be doing,
Anyone one who doesn’t is considered less than human.

So nobody worries about the jobless girl, who roams unaccompanied along the highway,
They don’t harness the compassion to worry for her wellbeing, that sense was dulled by the industry.
What the industry doesn’t like the industry abolishes, and there is no room for sentiment.
Business, as they say, is business. Nothing petty like emotion should get in its way.