The city's an organism
It's our bodies - they're multiplying
The interior swallows us in
To be siphoned and spat out again
The highways and streets are diseased
Our parks are the antibodies
Disregarding the gardens we breathe
Leaves us steadily suffocating
Gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone
Gone, gone, gone, gone
It's a scramble to reach the zenith
Those who make it are pushed off of it
Then the nothing that nothingness brings
Can be equally captivating
Don't let it hurt you
Pick up, pick up the last
Vestiges of your
Originality
Don't let it hurt you
Pick up, pick up the last
Vestiges of your
Originality
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