Cranes in the new sky,
Are flying over paved fields,
Of the old sleeping harbour,
Graciously.
While the cranes at the quayside,
Are rusting silently.
And the wind still keeps breathing,
Forcefully.
Im walking past a merry-go-round,
Of a long abandoned playground,
In the far distance the noisy city,
Is screaming silently.
Where the people are too busy or too numb,
To even take a look around,
To get a glimpse of the new sky,
Before its passing by.
Passing by.