A million voices in the city, all crying to be heard…
We walk in groups of ten and twenty, ‘cause in isolation we all fear to be hurt… though we never look up to the skies, to see if the King has returned.

We wear the masks of being happy, full of merry, but all cry from deep within.
We ask ourselves is someone out there listening, and if so, does anyone care?
Is there anybody listening, ‘cause I am crying? Is there anybody there, to see me dying?

We all walk followed by our shadows; our deeds so full of sin.
Can anybody out there redeem us; restore our broken souls?
We cry and look as though we smiling, bearing teeth that hide a lie.
The pain of a man crippled by past pleasure, the deceit of him that caused us to die…
But we can rest assured in this truth, that there are some who too felt our pain, but now enjoy the rest found solely in that coming King.