The Empty City

The outline of the city, the sheerness of its height

I thought that I was kidding when I said, I love this sight

I love this skyline, towers rising from the trees

White bars on a blue graph, not exactly flapping in the breeze

Cast upon a great white plaza

Filtered down through architects' maps

A stand of glassy super-structures

Rising from the sprawling city flats

Streaming to the blue sea, gleaming like beluga

Reducing to teeming atoms and a shimmering in the wind

Hope you have your camera, hope you have some paper

Because if no one gets this down, then it's gone forever

This is the elevator, I press all the buttons

Every floor is different, a different number anyway

The marble in the lobby, the silent corridors

Is this the new church, out of which no one pours

I feel I'm rising higher, I must be in the clouds by now

I knew it when I saw it, I picked the right office tower

I feel I heard it lift off, break away from all the rest

Lifting its great heaviness