Strange Streets

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Lyrics © 2026 Maris S. The streetlamps flicker, pale and white, Then shut down in the morning light. A window opens, curtains sway, Soft music drifts from far away. A man walks by with steady pace, Unnoticed in this crowded place. His coat is thin, his eyes still wide — A soul the city has not yet tried. The streets, they hum one restless tone, Some secrets buried behind brownstone. The city breathes from hidden ire, A hundred dreams behind each door. Silent songs sung by a choir, Telling tales of love and war. A worker yawns and checks the time, A child recites a counting rhyme. The morning sun cannot be seen, Blocked by smog from this machine. The streets, they hum one restless tone, Some secrets buried behind brownstone. The city breathes from hidden ire, A hundred dreams behind each door. Silent songs sung by a choir, Telling tales of love and war. Some cats parade like they belong, Some alleys echo half a song. A light turns red, then green, then back, And no one waits, and none look back. It isn't kind, but it's alive — Each corner breathes, each sound can thrive. And if you stand and simply see, You'll find it speaks, though quietly. The city breathes from hidden ire, A hundred dreams behind each door. Silent songs sung by a choir, Telling tales of love and war. The city breathes from hidden ire, A hundred dreams behind each door. One more voice joins the choir — Telling tales worth fighting for. A city full of saints and sinners, Full of losers, not many winners.