Some Good Poetry

Since it's all about Johnny Cash lately, I thought I'd post some Kris Kristofferson.

Casey joins the hollow sound of silent people walking down,
The stairway to the subway in the shadows down below.
Following their footsteps through the neon-darkened corridors,
Of silent desperation, never speaking to a soul.
The poison air he's breathing has the dirty smell of dying,
Cause it's never seen the sunshine, and it's never felt the rain.
But Casey minds the arrows and ignores the fatal echoes,
Of the clicking of the turnstiles and the rattle of his chains.