Rise high

Above bright souls trapped in neon tubes

 

And muddled dreams

Lost in exhaust fumes

 

And shadow islands

Which form and vanish among the masses

 

There

You will find the truth.

 

It is there

 

While the heart of the city

Throbs with frenetic passions

 

And its throat burns with the smoke

Of a million cigarettes

 

And its children are tangled

In twilight temptations.

 

And it will be there

To greet the morning

 

With the hard face

Of a grey god.

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