It was just a bit past midnight
As I was wandering the central streets
Streets filled with pieces of broken glasses
Scattered by the ones with broken lives
Broken lives with memories forgotten
Nameless here and there, young and old
Nameless now, before and after
Past the broken glasses
A young maiden gently passes
Maiden on the bike, with haste she passes
Terror in her eyes, eyes colored in blue
As the sky which knows no queue
What’s the hurry, where’s the rush?
What soul you want to crush?
Clearly you’ve forgotten
What is called the walk of life
And not at all the run of life.
The maiden keeps on rushing
On the two wheels and the blue eyes watching
As I keep on walking
Through streets with broken glasses
Where the times of bums are passing
Carrying the memories they’ll try to remember
Yet they’ll be forgotten
Only a bit past midnight