Half the world belongs to music,Color possesses the whole.
Twice as deep as the stars are pale
The complexion of the soul.
Numbers count the alleyways,
Thin lines sum up the streets,
And money wrings the hands and throats
Of everyone it meets.
Weird city of the valley world,
You hide your face in the grass.
You half belong to the magic,
But you let your power pass.
Little boy on the mountaintop,
Dangle your feet above the lights.
Until you grow to understand,
This is how you'll spend your nights.
Draw a circle, mark the maps,
Hear the distant drumbeat swell.
Weird city throw your heart back down;
Forsake another spell.