| I can feel the fire deep inside, it"s burning brighter
|
| With but a raised fist and my pride,
|
| I sway
|
| to the beat of our decay, the horsemen on their way
|
| And in this mob a crescent line to hide behind
|
| Here in and of the dark, our city, its streets and walls
|
| Here we live, we are, inside our homes and malls
|
| I walk across the dead train yard,
|
| remembering who we are
|
| I look inside and in my heart,
|
| we"re never far apart
|
| I can see the mountain over me, the Serpent Hollow
|
| The silent fortress underneath,
|
| I sway
|
| to the beat of our decay, the light of other days
|
| And fireside the black island, the toxic sand
|
| Dancing city lights glowing against the sky
|
| Snowing, shimmering, shinedust in our eyes
|
| I walk across the dead train yard,
|
| remembering who we are
|
| I look inside and in my heart,
|
| we"re never far apart
|
| And in the yellow belvedere
|
| I carve my name without fear
|
| A witness to the birth of me,
|
| This garden of concrete
|
| I walk across the dead train yard,
|
| remembering who we are.
|
| I look inside and in my heart,
|
| we"re never far apart
|
| And in the yellow belvedere
|
| I carve my name without fear
|
| A witness to the birth of me This g arden of concrete |