the city

the city

the concrete jungle

dressed in forty shades of grey

mine it's not the one

that is never sleeping

mine is the one

that had it's day

full of weeping

befallen the dark of the night

had upon it

like a blanket to cover the wounded

all but few wandering drunks rests home

all but few rushing taxis stays home

all but few roaring patrolmen lays home

where to escape from this daily cage

where we have our  plastic shed

with our plastic dreams and fancy clothes

alienated

single mind amongst thousands more

prison of your defeat

chamber of your disgrace

shallow grave

walk the tunnel free

vision set to your being

 free of disillusion