I was walking past the railyard, when the rust did sing below

Overhead the sky was stitched in twilight with a red and coppery glow

Winds swept sideways like four alley cats on soft paws on the leaves

Saying "Citizen, do not forget what the cityscapes believes"

Then I heard the river laughed a foamy, splashing wetness by the concrete wall of veins

Breaking out in windswept whispers through the subway flow of trains

Watched the seagulls spoke like preacher men on a rusty traffic light

About a cleaner kind of morning and a softer kind of night

Let the air become a flutter of a sharp harmonic cry

Let the oceans roll unblemished beneath a clear blue seascaped sky

Let the streets in Paris breathe the oxygen the parklands made in Nice

Let the corners of the world be singing back its own great newfound old time peace

There's a forest on my mind with high cathedral sounding zones

Where the roots are writing scriptures in forgotten antique tones

And the deers they step so lightly as if secrets must be kept

While the mountains flush their acid tears, the rainy day had wept

I've seen clouds like newborn prophets in a slowly fluff parade

Gluing shadows to the speckled spots that the sunshine just had made

And the wind, the wind was drifting with a black coiled truth to tell

That the traders traded heavens for a poisoned wishing well

Let the air become a climber of a true guitar blue 'high'

Let the oceans roll unblemished beneath a clear blue seascaped sky

Let the streets of London breathe the oxygen the gardens made in Rome

Let the wildlife of the world be playing back its own great old time fresh genome

Down by the seaside where the breakers clearly speak

Every wave writes documentaries that the shoreline cannot keep

Salty streaks do reach our memories like pin balls stalled in flames

Calling every species back to mother Nature by their names

I saw dolphins leaping in a silvery North Sea spin

As if they recognized the troubles that the fisheries of Oslofjord were really tangled in

And the tide, it was a clock where every ebb refused to lie

About the seafloor's quick demise beneath the night watched moonlit sky

Now the city's got a heartbeat made of rusty steel and steam

But it dreams of brighter parklands in its dreamtime in between

Every rooftop here is aching for a patch of shiny green

Every skyline's attic missing all the blue skies seldom seen

So I'm talking to industrial plants and the blowpipes in the breeze

As the stubborn little flowers still go cracking through the oily streets

To the engines and the echoes and the neon yellow glare

Saying: "There's a fresher kind of breath in the meadows out of here"

Let the rivers run their lengths, and let the black smoke fall to ground

Let the truth become a tell-tale song in this quiet, rusty town

Cause the Earth don't ask for misty tales or grand parades no more

Just a little less destruction, and a little more comfort

Let the air become a waveform of an organ sailing sound

Let the oceans roll unblemished beneath a clear blue seascaped mound

Let the streets of London breathe the oxygen the woodlands made in Maine

Let the deserts of the world be singing back its own green peaceful old time plain