wb :

The sun is first, and then the city roars
To men who lose their sins, their souls, their say
It is a heart that never shuts its doors.

They make their beds, their minds, and make their way,
And bones of steel, and veins of putrid tar
To men who lose their sins, their souls, their say;

All that is left are memories afar,
And fantasies. Where steel and concrete grows,
And bones of steel, and veins of putrid tar,

Inside their rooms, a moment of repose
To dream of things that lie beyond the walls,
And fantasies where steel and concrete grows,

Then night descends; the gate, majestic, falls
For them to leave. It is impossible
To dream of things that lie beyond the walls.

They wake again, in lights immiscible-
The sun is first, and then the city roars;
For them to leave, it is impossible:
It is a heart that never shuts its doors.