As the city quiets down
Noises come up within

The funky soundtrack of my demise
My hands in pockets because i have no belt
I ll wait until tomorrow to realize what i felt

Even the waves are in a hurry to get somewhere

The moms on bikes with the childseats empty
On parked bikes only the back lights are on
Red red red red    but the city's still
gray

I forget which street light are those that turn red to green only as you get closer to them

I am the home that sometimes feels unlike a house to me