| The holy city breathed | |
| Like a dying man | |
| It moved with hopeful tears | |
| With the tears of the blind | |
| And on and on as the night drew in | |
| Through broken streets that sucked me in | |
| My feet were bare and cut with stones | |
| With walking to the promised land | |
| I pushed through crowds through seas of prayer | |
| Through twisting hands and choking air | |
| A vulture at the wailing wall | |
| I circled waiting | |
| And on and on as the night drew in | |
| Through broken streets that sucked me in | |
| My feet were bare and cut with stones | |
| With walking to the promised land |
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