City lights, leaking at the seams,
Skyline hopes and Skyline dreams,
Robust carbon hearts dancing in moonbeams,
A caveat of careless silver screens

Late nights with hollow eyes,
A compilation of our greatest highs,
Played out to the group of hungry spies,
Elongated by my constant lies

Is there still magic in the midnight sun,
Or am I refusing to believe it's run,
Out of fire.

Is there still passion in the empty cup,
Or am I refusing to believe it's blown up,
Out of desire.