Endless tension , walking corpses
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You see in their faces sad frustation
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Cops are hitting , cars are crashing
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And piles of people are sucking smog
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1. And I die slowly in this grave
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My grave , in wich millions will die
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The glasscases are showing fashions
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While beggars beg for a piece of bread
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Busses are filled with human masses
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And a dog4s crushed by the wheels
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2. And I cry surrounded by stress
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and I think , How can I live in this mess?
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Chorus:
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And the hate is growing high,
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And the city grows to the sky,
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We're just some little scums,
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Trapped in our own pretty tomb
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-----------------
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Metropolis
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| Poema Arcanus |
