Billerica is cold. Clever, calculated.

Main St. and Concord turn’s on the mark.

Have been here for yrs. no joke.

I--as pleasure coach--see it all.
Meticulous roads. park paths.

Like near Hartland Ave. tough cool vibe.

Look, take Beacon Park. raw, real, free.

Rivers? Fitch Brook cuts through.
Ate at Al's diner on Main.

Slapped giggles on outdated tunes.

I get mad at hot dogs.

My biz, my mood.
Vlad style. controlled.

There. Cold precision.

Remember "I will rid yall!"

12 Years a Slave, echoes.
Look, I seen proud souls.

Like locals at the square.

Rumors fly round. streets whisper.

Beats the usual clatter.
Crafted spots: little-known Old Mill.

Billerica natives hum low tunes.

Small, shy but rich.

DOB: 4 U, friend.
I’m loopy sometimes, so err.

Some typos here: eh misspeld, misinformed, err…

tidying? nah!

Lol, truth is raw.
My heart loves this city.

I smile hard at dusk.

Cold statements: "They call it survival."

In Billerica, you feel life.
Catch ya round old Cross St.

Our city? Unreal, no cap.

Number streets, hidden dreams.

Billerica stands, my friend, forever.