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Besedila: Rush. Moving Pictures. The Camera Eye.

Grim faced and forbidding
Their faces closed tight
An angular mass of New Yorkers

Pacing in rhythm
Race the oncoming night
They chase through the streets of Manhattan

Head first humanity
Pause at a light
Then flow through the streets of the city

They seem oblivious
To a soft spring rain, like an English rain
So light, yet endless from a leaden sky

The buildings are lost
In their limitless rise
My feet catch the pulse and the purposeful stride

I feel the sense of possibilities
I feel the wrench of hard realities
The focus is sharp in the city

Wide angle watcher
On life's ancient tales
Steeped in the history of London

Green and gray washes
In a wispy white veil
Mist in the streets of Westminster

Wistful and weathered
The pride still prevails
Alive in the streets of the city

Are they oblivious to this quality?
A quality of light unique
To every city street

Pavements may teem with intense energy
But the city is calm
In this violent sea

I feel the sense of possibilities
I feel the wrench of hard realities
The focus is sharp in the city

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