The City - The 3rd and the Mortal

I am an effort mirror

I’m up to this contempt exceedance

Of a metropolis

Obviously modern

Because every known taste

Has been avoided in the furniture

And in the outsides of the houses

As well as in the layout of the city, of the city

Here you will not discover the least sign of every movement of superstition

They ensure it’s more obvious

And speech is reduced to the simplest expressions

Live with millions of people who have no need of knowing one another

Condemn their education, their trade and their hope in such similarity

That the duration of the lives must be several time shorter than

According to some insane statistics

This encased people on the contempt

From my window, from my window

From my window I see new ghosts rolling though thick, everlasting, cold smoke

Our shadow on the walls, our summer night

You, your melodies… You, your melodies… You, your melodies

In front of my cottage, which is call to the end of my heart

Since everything here resembled death without tears

Our acting daughter and the servant

Our desperate love, our desperate love, our desperate love

And the pretty, pretty cry

Cry in the mud of this street

Death without tears, death without tears

Death without tears, death without tears

The entire universe is now open to us!