Documentos de Académico
Documentos de Profesional
Documentos de Cultura
Every street has alleys and whitin the alleys There are criminals and policemen. I said, Tonight The moon is like a dead ganster. I heard him goggle like a hound. The moon, He said, is spooky. We should lie upon our backs And howl. And so we walked, uneasy, wondering If there were justice anywhere Within this midnight city, Or how, without a hat, one could distinguish A vice-squad member from a glass of beer, Or whether if one met them walking hand in hand One could tell Bugsy Siegel from Virginia Woolf. They are selling the midnight papers, The moon is wearing brass knuckles.