The place where the wretched lurk Buried in dens they indwell Watchfully eye each move we make. Lurching through the darknened streets Lined with treacherous two-faced rats Ruining tomorow what we create today. This city is a tomb of ghosts Crippled and drained of minds Leaving nothing but shadows of doubts. Such inheritance is innate Sins are embedded in thoughts Flaring horizons are to be passed through A withered place with empty souls Neighboring estate vile as morgue Content too far from being dead Think of what you've done and you're all set.