In this city of dreams where the Muezzin screams
at the top of the mosque,
I am the lonely ship lost,tossed high on the waves,
wondering
wondering, is it true Jesus saves?

If we are the slaves of desire will we burn
or
is there a higher purpose,if so,then
what purpose
what ideal and
should I feel obliged to kneel and to pray?

There is a dream of a dream somewhere, where everything's clear,somewhere out there.
By the temple at the Temple where the poor people seek alms and the charlatans sell charms, where the preachers give balm to the soul,dreams are dressed in the blessing and it's
all too depressing,
I should just bury myself in a hole.

This city of dreams never seems to let go and
doesn't want to know
my side of the story.
It is cruel with a heart made from stone(hear it groan)
I can't make a home in this place,
the Muezzin screams on until all dreams are gone
and then
so am I.