This City is alive
with the dreams of a million hearts,
with the hatred of ten million,
with the love of everyone who lives here.
The city has been serenaded since before my birth,
And faced a million outrages.
But this is not its story my friend,
This is not its story.
This is your and my poem,
I see a girl in front of me,
with brown hair and blue eyes,
deep in written work,
homework from school maybe.
The iPod lies on the table at a side.
I see a group discussing the terms of a loan for their business.
Many thoughts, many ideas, many words flow through the room.
Sometimes, sometimes, you make yourself think and believe,
You'll be happy, you'll be happy and live in bliss.