I was making my way into an open market
I almost fell into a basket of limes
I felt my feet slip out from underneath me
Like a trapdoor sliding over
And making me
Hang from a fire escape into a desolate
Alley where filth runs into old rusted fixtures which
Glisten with blood
And the lights outside show their way in
I can see shafts of light now, from people adjusting

There were 15 million of you, my condolences
This is the only time
     we're going to be able to
           make it through