1When you go to see the city
On a cloud up in the twilight
There's a many wonder you'll see
Catch your eye on your way home.
Beggars find the streets a-bearing
Many wonder of enchantment
There's an old man sitting silent
He's the one most try avoid.
Nothing hurts the dying people
Such is life as they can tell us
World's will hate the crying people;
Low forms of society.
Always are the silent waiting
Sunlit rays destroy crying skies
Angels wash the blood from cold wounds
Heaven has become a hell.