Thousands of windows

Now the city is wearing an evening dress,
a sea of lights in the darkness.
The city is hurted by sadness.

This little city wipe the dust,
wiping the sleep in of her eyes.
Thousands of windows,
are opened,
suddenly.

And every window has his own story,
and every windoe hide behind him a man.
And every man has his history,
and every window has the locked chain.

Every part in the city,
is lame and worn out.
And the people are quiet,
they never cry or shout.

And this city wears black,
and the black is at their souls.
This city is depressing,
with the its towers, so tall.

And every window has his own story,
and every windoe hide behind him a man.
And every man has his history,
and every window has the locked chain.