I CRY FOR THE RICH

They heaved me up in a dank cell
They tortured me, squeezed my eyes
Oh God it was hell
My only crime being drank and disorderly
Along Koinange Street
Where a quiet bargain was on next to a black merc.

Early next morning they kicked my butt
Out of the station way before breakfast was served
After all I didn't even pay for the bedbug bed
Why did I expect some even half cup naked uji?
I was warned to remain in the part of the city
Where cheap prostitutes like me can have a say.

Later on Sipping some keg in a hovel down Luthuli 
I pitied those who rave in the real city
Where prostitution is no  crime
Where walking half naked isn't immorral
Where drinking a whole barrel of imported red wine
With your thirteenth mpango wa kando
Is more than okay, very gentlemanly indeed.

I felt for the dear sons and daughters of uptown
Where watching a nude your-mothers-age-mate on-line
Whatever that means!
Where getting a pizza courtesy of your old-man's-pall
For a jig after the company dinner
Is dimmed cool, no policeman would dare interupt.

At least down here
There are cops and straight-from -village folks
To be wary of.