LADIES OF METROPOLIS

Empty gazes upon the buildings, cars after cars,
rhyme with violins and the sound of guitars.
If a poet were to pass by here, staring at stars,
he would recite a verse talking about scars and bars.

Hum, baby, I can see this. Yea baby, I can register this.
Hum, hum, my baby, It’s like this. I can say. I saw this.

But no one cares for the ladies, living at buildings in blocks,
who unhappily throw themselves onto the sidewalks.

The metropolis at night, bourgeois opera, no good, in bad resulted.
From how many bricks was your heart sculpted? Yes, sculpted.
They made you the most beautiful catacomb constructed.
Colorful at night, music and joy in the air, no care, only insulted.
While by day you suffocate your adult babies. I deducted.

Hum, baby, I can see this. Yea baby, I can register this.
Hum, hum, my baby, It’s like this. I can say. I saw this.

Your lamps are candles, empty windows, I found. Yes I found.
Ladies rounding and rounding fall and splatter on the ground. Down on the ground.

And they are born as they were meant to be born. With adorn.
Dead, they will no longer cry or laugh. No more adorn.

How to explain that metropolis are the lung of this country, all cross-country,
like ladies who repent and kill themselves? For happiness hungry.

Hum, baby, I can see this. Yea baby, I can register this.
Hum, hum, my baby, It’s like this. I can say. I saw this.

Yes my God, they kill themselves out of depression. No affection.
They can't live in a brick tomb, with such aggression. Just one action.
Suicide to get rid of themselves, the ladies with no expectations, under aggression.
Poor ladies in beautiful metropolis keeling themselves irrespective of progression.

Hum, baby, I can see this. Yea baby, I can register this.
Hum, hum, my baby, It’s like this. I can say. I saw this.