The pillars that support the concrete bridge are not empty

They are quite hollow

People laugh at me when I say this

They contain gangsters who fell out with other gangsters

And letters from Hong Kong

I was a gangster but I am no longer a gangster

My driver shot me in the head in a rapid dream

I knew this and killed my driver when I woke up

The filthy pillar that faces my bedroom window

Contains his brutalised remains

Thousands of cars pass by every day

Unaware of his troubled eternity

That is why I am no longer a gangster

When the bridge is finally demolished

The remains of my driver and other gangsters will be found

But I will be long gone and forgotten

And living quietly with my wife in Hong Kong