Dirty river,
dirty river going into the ocean,
stood here at a place,
that I do not want to be,
stood here in the bitter wind,
with your things in my hands,
and with your clothes,
and your gun just as planned,
and with you dead,
there is not much company,
so, throw it all,
and to hell with it all,
oh, city,
city what do you see,
what do you see when you look at me?
A killer or a saviour,
or something unmentionable
a strong me,
a damaged me.
City,
do you pity me, for you see it all,
you see it all,
you see the sickness,
and the beauty of everyone here,
and I see very unclearly,
and I have forgotten what it is,
and I have forgotten,
what it is to be me.
