Sal Three

Can you identify, which back door, lies between moon and sky, what till has been emptied, and other parts thrown, on this Spring tide, don't need an inquiry, when truth is bought, then buried, witness the crime, you know the score, during this black night, some drink whisky, laugh like they're taught, it makes them happy, every walk of life, ends in a nought, you don’t need a knife, security lights, pool on the floor in winter’s fastness, there rise the poor.