Sultry city sidewalks, the people come and go.
Some look straight down, some look away.
For no one should they know.
The city heat begins to beat the sweat into your brow.
A country song just sounds so wrong under a cafe awning.
As the taxi man devoid of fare sits half alive and yawning.
You swear that hell is rising up from underneath the pavement.
Emiting all it's acrid sense to capture man's enslavement.
The grace that comes when old man sun decides to go away.
Gives peace a chance to slowly dance until another day.