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GERTRUDE STREET

Standing outside an empty gallery

on the middle of Gertrude Street.

I’m standing outside an empty gallery

with a whole in the wall

on the middle of Gertrude Street.

I don’t know why I’m here.

I was just at that gay bar.

I don’t know why I’m here.

A mystery man gave me powder from the end of his finger.

I don’t know why I’m here

standing outside an empty gallery

on the middle of Gertrude Street.

I don’t know why I’m here.

Thinking about the pipes and the wires

in the hole in the wall

on the middle of Gertrude Street.

I kissed that ugly man.

He scraped my tongue with his sharp teeth.

I don’t know why I’m here.

The man at the club asked me to come home with him.

I don’t know why I’m here.

Eating chips from that same kebab shop I went to with Abby.

I don’t know why I’m here.

Staring at the hole in the wall

on the middle of Gertrude Street.

Am I a hole in the wall?

A hole in the wall of an abandoned art gallery.

There’s just a hole in the wall.

Once there was passion, and art, now there’s nothing

but the things that make me bleed.

I’m just a hole in the wall.

Lonely and alive and exposed

on the middle of Gertrude Street.

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