The Gilded City.

I see the sign on the highway,
Leading to the city of dread.
All the way down,
To the new south road.
Where old mills they lie condemned.

I travel to the southern shoreline,
Where a million people lay.
Walking down,
The queen's necklace.
Where once children used to play.

When I wonder,
Where is the pity.
And I find a man,
Who can tell.
I know no one,
Knows this city.
Like the old man,
Drinking whisky next to hell.

I see all the ants are running,
As the light shines from the east.
Moving along,
The city's veins.
As they see the belly of the beast.

All the fighters keep on dancing,
They hear the tolling of the bell.
When the clock strikes six,
They will run back home.
Thinking all that is, is what is well.

When I wonder,
Where is the pity.
And I find a man,
Who can tell.
I know no one,
Knows this city.
Like the old man,
Drinking whisky next to hell.

The devils look upon their kingdom,
As they sell the town and all within.
Peeking out,
From their shiny cars.
Bought from selling all types of sin.

As the young babe opens his eyes,
He sees a dead and gilded tree.
So he wonders,
And he dreams about it.
Is beauty here as fake as we see.

When I wonder,
Where is the pity.
And I find a man,
Who can tell.
I know no one,
Knows this city.
Like the old man,
Drinking whisky next to hell.