walked your streets
at day and night,
you are heaven and hell
in the same, sitting there
like a chess-board,
waiting for the figures to move

decadence thriving of
people chasing dreams,
and yet you behold
a strange peace
in these early morning hours
when you almost slumber
and your skies glow
this greenish tone
just over the mountains
surrounding the plains
on which you rose

desert sands, on which
the pyramid sinks
the fastest,
the perfect show,
the banker inside
the holy shape

death is no stranger
to your streets,
often called upon
by broken dreams and greed
but as he is fair to us all,
coming for us all, when our time is right
so you bewilder my senses,
uniting dream and hell
on an ancient desert plain.