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Marcus Foster
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Shadows of the City
Well the streets are bleeding out for a real dream that's not filled with unmarked bills.
When the moon turns it's back to let off steam your faced with a cold chill.
There's a bird at the window with smoke in his lungs singing off key. There's a wounded girl with a heart shaped shoe in the shadow, in the shadow, In the shadows of the city, in the shadows of the city.
Well the trains are half empty with the faces that try to break off their chains.
Bound by the sound of a screaming dog that has all the names, all the names.
There's a mad man throwing stones at the streetlights cutting through the torn out shade.
There's a small yellow ribbon by the fallen tree in the shadows, in the shadows.
In the shadows of the city, in the shadows of the city.
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You can feel the air breathing down
your neck like a ghost step by your side.
A flash of white teeth by the side of the road is looking for a place to hide.
Raincoat woman with a knife in her hand and a shovel on the grassy ground.
If you catch her left eye you can hear the sound of the shadows in the shadows.
In the shadows of the city, in the shadows of the city.
In the shadows of the city, in the shadows of the city.
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