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In the old town of the City
on the corner of the Busy street
where no mercy or a pity
ever appear or is cast
upon anyone you're with
Of a specific taste the best
there lies a restaurant
which only Rude and Mean do haunt
it's called "The Bleeding feet"
or "Time to waist"
All the weird and crippled people
with the hunchback from the steeple
cruel and pissed, here's where they meet
they rule the place
with their fists and teeth
{ And one rules with his horn }
Very slowly pass the unmerciful days
at "The Bleeding feet" or "Time to waist"
my homeplace where I was born
In the old town of the City
where no mercy or a pity
ever appear or is cast upon anyone
there lies a little restaurant.

I like this poem better and better the more I read it.

VESUVIUS
I'D LIKE TO READ SOME MORE FROM YOU
PLEASE
WOULD YOU BE SO KIND AND
TELL ME SOMETHING ABOUT WHAT I TRY TO DO?
I MEAN
PLEASE TELL ME SOMETHING ABOUT MY POEMS
SOMETHING I COULD BUILD ON
COULD YOU?
KRTEK

I think you are trying to describe Paris, France. Are you not?