The sun sets o’er the city of Angels,
Silence fills the night. Quiet as a gun-
Shot, another helicopter takes flight.
Sirens and flares burn the skyline with light.
Some who sleep in the city of Angels
Make beds on concrete and black bubble gum.
Worn pages of L.A. Times tell of plights
And quoth progress in letters black as night.
From Bunker Hill to back alleys, rail roads
And benches, not all the angels can sleep.
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