The moon has blocked the sun.
That I haven't seen for days.
It walks the street as the chimneys burn.
I'll drink some beers as I find my way
My way home
Th streets were made for horse and cart;
they talk to mine behind close doors.
Stood in the rain to feel the part
This maze I stand of concrete walls
My way home
Suspicious corpse without a face,
the screen lights a hidden dim.
This black hawk can't find its place,
through the night we swim.

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