Early Anwar goes to sweep,
To sift along the urban jeeps;
Hurrying the curbs to their termini,
Tiny speckled sweat determining.

The MP3 player in his pocket,
The seven colors in his heart;
He will be bashed again someday
Or maybe just explode.

Moderate Nicolai tends so well,
The coffers on the side to swell;
He hides behind the bus station
And with yellow liquid greets the nation.

His wife will not be coming back,
His children he devoured;
He saves his cash for rainy days,
A streetcar should have him.

Old Moses jostles slowly,
His vivid eyes are but a memory;
The street is wide and so-so long,
Now he's here and then he's gone.

I, Ol' Jack, have a few new friends,
So be prepared to make amends!
Did I rip these famous three
Or am I just the guy on 13B?

He sits there still,
Watching the dawn that never comes,
A yellow river at his feet,
A multi-hued shirt in hand,
Or maybe just a used fuse.