Staring Down Roman Way

Staring down
Roman Way
At the shrines
And the spitting
At the quarrellers
And their prison
Through a pint glass
Of a prism
And their road
Is a decision
At the national flags and
Flip flop dressed in
Harry Rags
Where it’s great
To be straight
As speeds bumps yeah
And the grass grows there
And burdens hump
Where betting slips
Past baby lumps
Who’s days trip
And prospects faint
In words mis-spelled in
Anti-Climb paint