There is a city that never sleeps,
But I know of one that does.
The echo of footsteps in an ancient town;
Quiet and still as the trees dream,
Calmly, quietly swaying to the breeze.
The motionless monstrosities
Of the buildings that rise above,
Painted blacker than death;
Like the night sky but no stars are in sight.
Finally at peace from the day,
Yet another lies ahead.
There is a place called the City of Light,
But I’ve seen it only at dusk.
I gaze down at it, at you, while you sleep;
You enlighten me so deeply,
You’ll never know what beauty I endure.
Such joy I see when moonbeams bounce
What magic you find at night.
We all know the City of Angels,
But my home if far from that.
The city I look at from dusk till dawn
Is unique in itself.
A lonely town suspiciously quiet,
Most commonly know as The Smoke.