The streets are empty, the City lies asleep
As the night creeps quietly on toward the end.
A sad, sad siren wails the blues, keeping time
Still, while the lazy paper-boy breaks the news.
Trains in the distance clickety-clack like heels
On the sidewalk catching in the crack of dawn.
Gone are the fields. Gone are the green trees. Only
The flies survive the summer heat, the grey haze,
The days without any breeze. The nights come late
But sure. No more cry silent in slow decay.
Soon the coming sun will bring the break of day.