I know a donkey raising a little bird in a cage
I know a goat on the street corner begging for change
that the city is armed to the teeth
And I hide among rubble and ruins
that the city is armed to the teeth
And I hide between concrete walls
Among buildings that pierce the skies
Although I try to control myself
The vices win, I'll submit
Quiet, minding my own, I'm already wrong
You can be sure I'm not a poor wretch
That I'm not a poor wretch