The English loves me, a gesture of good will. When taken, tears of happiness they cry. The German fear me, a deadly concoction. When taken, they would surely die.

I appear in a mess, but I am not a single dress. You might see me in dryers, but lost socks go on flyers..

Some are on the run, others may bleed. Each of you have one that might be in need, of a tissue or powder or a picking too, but don't do the latter as others find it rude.

A pyramid, a tower, a fountain, oh my! I'm a city that may bring a tear to your eye. A garden of neon where the lucky can win, Pull the lever, take a chance in this city of sin.

though it may be melodious and great, when you hear my voice you know you've been deceived, So your joy may turn to hate, when it's false news you have recieved,