There is a city inside my body
With cars making their way through my veins
People are on rush like they’re insane

My organs make up the industries
And the people are the workers
They work twenty-four/seven, tirelessly

Waiting for the food
Which they make into goods
And supply to all the smaller towns

But in my body,
The day never comes
So they’re accustomed to night-time

And all the routes and all the buildings,
And all the cars with their honking
Even lampposts and payphones

All the houses’ windows
Maybe even TVs and radios
Together, they make their own city lights