I can tell this city's dying,
It's clammy, cold, and quiet.
Faint lights flicker in the darkness,
But this time I don't buy it.
And I'm sure those lights are lying;
I believe this city's dying.
All it's people hide come nightfall,
They can't stand these lonely streets,
So they hide inside their houses,
Watch TV and go to sleep.
They're so damn near invisible
That they need not be there at all.
So I wander through the alleys,
Heir to some forgotten throne,
The whole city as my shadow,
We both sense our subjects gone,
We've no enemies nor allies,
Just our nameless hills and valleys.