Under the weakling lamps of darkened tunnels Hide figures blackened by the lack of light They look like ghosts of somebody's tommorow And it's not one that's happy, clear or bright They dare not leave their walled abode And come and face the going day Where strange things hide and nothing's to protect them And light's not orangeish but hazy gray Strange creatures run among and hide in bushes And even stranger ones live on the walls along with ghosts Whose edgy grins go out to abandoned buildings Covered in messages and secret posts Inhabitants of tunnels are aware That they won't handle emptiness of sky, Freedom of grass and strength of broken windows And so they spend their lives inside