If your city centre is all that I saw
I’d think your business was usually law
What with the dark blue designer suits
By shops displaying Italian made boots
Polluting the air with pricey cologne
Retracting antennae of cellular phones
Storefronts that advertise costly Swiss watches
Available only to those in the very top notches
Whilst the only presence of untidy feet
Are the blue collar workers paving the street

Beyond art museums in all of their glory
Past quite trendy shops lies a much different story
Walk a few blocks and the streets will now sing
Of blackened brick buildings, cheap high-rise housing
Chimneys like monuments point to the sky
Proclaiming industry of days gone by
Do workers still toil in rain mixed with sweat
Knives in their pockets to settle a debt?
O, city of weaving, as you rose you may fall
To the relentless advance of more urban sprawl