It gets dark in the city.
I walk inside her,
beneath the gloom.
People sleep on the floor,
others run,
a robbery unfolds.
Black City,
yours, mine, ours.
In my imagination,
thick brushstrokes,
black as night,
form crooked buildings,
like our minds.
It gets dark in the city.
I walk inside her,
beneath the gloom.
People sleep on the floor,
others run,
a robbery unfolds.
Black City,
yours, mine, ours.
In my imagination,
thick brushstrokes,
black as night,
form crooked buildings,
like our minds.
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