Wow the title converted to some unknown language all by itself
I hope the post is in english
Beconing , the streets meander as fellow soldiers stumble homeward
Whos thoughts breather residence , whos whisper hushes peace
Whos behavior humbles the turmoil of riddled sallow frought folk
Mumbling on solid music and perturbed kind followers
Thus in the midst of garbage and beer
Thus between the mustered beat of pleading hugging women, I saw her
Standing bold
standing turning the blissfull toil of people who did not know my age,
Who did not know my face, When there is no one, anyone becomes important
Stage two...when the street is barren
what becons you in?
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