I tend to be, much more lost than found
The voices on the street are selfish songs
In addition, they sound all the same to me
Maintain, try to stay sane and on course
Weary, of the concrete, metal all around
I miss the flowers and the redwood trees
The death of NYC was a sad sight to see
I lived here when she bled out on the streets
Weeping in the city that never sleeps
Over, is the era of Brooklyn, now it's all about Queens
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