Lines...

Ok, these lines have been running though my head for too long. The spelling and grammar won't be great because of the state of mind I'm in right now, but here goes.... (oh and this will be pretty much heavily edited)

British roads at Night.

Fag ends line the pavement, broken glass
Intoxicated car crashes
Automatic cancerous, alcoholic suicide victims
We're all just waiting for our ends

I walk from a night club with a crying woman
Luck as bad as mine
She walks with the man she lodges with
Who tries to comfort her

Men are dogs
Women equally so
Why is love so systematic?
It doesn't make sense

I leave her crying on my way
I'm not sure what to think
Too much to drink
We all have an albatross
Draped around our necks

Fag ends line the pavement, broken glass
Intoxicated car crashes
Automatic cancerous, alcoholic suicide victims
We're all waiting for our ends

If there is heaven or hell waiting for us
I, nor we can confirm
I try to see a God in the world around me
But I find it hard

I cannot think
Too much to drink
We all have an albatross
Draped around our necks

Psychopathic, distorted vision
Sideways is the world
Walking home is regressive
Yet natural, magnetic

Taxies crawl the streets
Like stray feral animals
Looking for food
Trying to make a living

Off the damned
Intoxicated
Medicated
Smoke filled lungs

The cancer of fag ends linger on the pavement
I'm no hypocrite, I do my bit
I drink, I smoke
I feed the taxis when I feel rich

But I have neither Darwin nor Fry
Nor Elgar nor Smith
Just my shoes and a path
But one can laugh

I'm born into a world I do not understand
Systematic male and female relationships
Behind a glass case
I cannot seem to afford it
Hovever much I try

Walking homeward bound
Smart casual
Shirt and trousers
A blazer, a neon tie for good measure

All my money in drink
I aimlessly head for my bed
With the hope of success
Draped around my neck

If there be a heaven or hell
It isn't for me to confirm
I try to see a God in the world around me
But it just isn't easy

These are my British roads
Fag ends line the street, broken glass
Intoxicated car crashes
If a forest over grows
A purging fire is inevitable and natural

Thats pretty good, I like how you reuse that set of lines like a chorus, it makes it stand out as important. Also a fag end is a cigerette but, right? Because if it isn't I don't get the poem.

Yes, this poem uses British English slang terms.