A lamppost burns like heaven's delight
Beacon for calm on a busy night
Clicking of heels sounds all alone
Drowning out embers of the silent drone
A flicking of light, a drop of some ash
On cold city streets, they fuse and they clash
The man sits quiet, maybe live, maybe dead
A visionary walks, with nightmares in head
A swift, silent breeze
Graces begging leaves
Falling to the corner
Next to home of the coroner
It is a beautiful night
No noise and no plight
On the cold city streets
No melody, no beats
