And the city has a way to make you forget / About half the stuff you love and things you don’t know yet / About the space that’s left when nobody talks / About the quiet on the path where nobody walks (Sean Rowe)

This whole world is a foreign land / We swallow the moon, but we do not know our own hand / We’re running with the case, but we ain’t got the gold / And we are trying to leave something behind (Sean Rowe)

Did you wake up to the thunder of the dead streets down below? / Did you hear the wind a-howlin‘ through some demon radio? / Oh no, I know it’s so hard to go (Alejandro Escovedo)