I live in this city alone.
It is always cloudy here.
It is cold and it rains all the time
but you could find love
if you wanted. That's what
I tell myself when I'm wet and cold
on a lonely street, walking home.
You could look through the window
of an old Victorian house and,
seeing a beautiful family
in a living room full of books,
think “this could be my family”.
Or, on another reality, “that
could be me, as a child or, maybe
one day, as a father”.
The city has no limits, take advantage,
this could be your land.
You could call this city home,
bend it it to your will
if you wanted to.
Take this city in your hands
and squeeze it.
Forge a big heart out of it
or some wings.
Just give it a chance,
it’s not too late
and you still need to get home
and it's ****** raining
                                   again.