Gazing from faraway, all but a little I could see,
Sky-scraping the Moon;The Brooklyn? Maybe three.
Concealing his demons, amidst the hustling horns,
Walking down the road, as busy as it'd ever be.
Drizzled for a minute as everyone went ashore,
What followed, was the everlasting petrichor.
Binding his insecurities, Minding his steps,
A damp me rushed home, slamming the doors.
"Have had enough! Am done with this city!"
Stroke a match, as I lit my Lights.
Took some in , To have some pity;
Tuning my guitar, as I curse the citylights.
Woke up to stubs, Woke up to grime,
To fill the street with my music; My hat with dimes.
Gazing from faraway, all but a little did I see,
Lights of this city are nothing but a bait for thee.