I looked out toward that metal jungle
A man exhaled cigarette smoke and it rose up fading away
Light glimmered off of windows
The setting sun on an iron casket
I leaned over to pick up an old beer bottle
I threw it away
Yet, still the leaves fell.

Cars dotted across the jungle floor
Red lights, green lights, directing those where to go
A cyclist rung his bell as he swerved around me getting by
It smelt like asphalt in this granite biome
The sun releasing the smell from the highways
At a store I held a rusted door open for a woman and her child
Yet, still the leaves fell.

A puddle survived on the pavement in my parking garage
It was cool here
It shimmered with a rainbow film from car oil
The crunch of loose gravel under my feet echoed in the halls
A man dropped his wallet in here once
I picked it up and returned it to him
Yet, still the leaves fell.

I lived my life doing what was right
I lived my life doing what should be done
Still, the leaves fell.