Tired faces from wasted places Riding under avenues On the edge of drunken reason With a paycheck and some food Staring into sunken ships and ghost towns And empty packs of cigarettes I found on the ground And the quiet night, shifts like winter's wild winds And condemns my eyes from looking up In the still of the night Abandoned logic with light Well listen flakes Things are worse As the ghosts of the city street There's a silent scene of shadows that dance in the light A cinema screen of Manhattan In the scene of the night Over the sewer and under the trees And into my pockets for something to breathe And the smoke always looks so good in the cold In the still of the night Abandon logic with light Well listen flakes Things are worse As the ghosts of the city street The night has descended and has drowned The shivering sunlight out with quiet sounds Of crackling earth as I walk through the park On a quiet quest for reason in the dark