Walking, pavement talking,
rundown sneakers on crumbled cement.
Knocking, raised hand shocking,
begging time for last month’s rent.
Shriveled streamers, once were dreamers
But they seeped into deep cracks
Torn up walls, we're born to fall
How much I long those bright days back
Everything we've given to this "noble" city living
Will not return, the verdict goes unread
No light, Holland tunnel
Stars that hide, I think I'm done, I'll
Burn these broken dreams
I think Bohemia is dead.