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



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.