looking back at the city

it seems so strange to see the buildings lit
almost empty streets once in a while a car
passing my any movement might just mar
the perfection of the time all things must fit
the shape of the world but also must commit
themselves to its harsh life nothing too far
beyond the normal but yet within the bar
of all existence inasmuch as they have wit
voices that tell us there's a stranger way
but one with higher hope they may deceive
or they may not that thing we cannot know
for the time being we have our common day
and all the things we get or may believe
the task is simple get on which the show