We dance: the urban masquerade
The medium between scattered
Footsteps and purpose—never clear
Where we are, who we wish to be;
Everyone or none, if you please.
Ever forward—we are the ones,
Humanities civil engine,
To bring the hand of God to those
Who never hoped to be buried
At the hands of cold faceless stone.
The city is built of our own;
We walk the streets—cities of bones
Crumbled beneath us, lonesome, like
Shattered memories, lost, of what
Once was, and never is to be.
We dance the urban masquerade.
Ever forward—we are the ones
Here to dance, forever—nowhere.