the hieroglyph of dread

the streets begin to fill
from an emptiness raging inside
like a pendulum still swinging
in this season meant for dust

swept up with news of dread
the brightest weren't the best
they learnt to leave in a hurry
with New York a lot colder
closer than unforgiving

the troubles infected all
in writes upon the wall street
in the hieroglyph of money
in a God they'd trust as hidden
in rivers without fish

from the cradle to a slave
from the lust of torrent wishes
from the burning fire of living
from the meaning of making it
from the individual sneaking
from the backslapping inside
from the way we've all tried
making dreams out of this rust

surrounded bleakly by this city
-- oh how I feel for you and you --
tearing us from daring day light
to walk numb into dark night