looking down on empty streets, all she can see, are the dreams all made solid, the dreams made real. all of the buildings, all of the cars, were once just a dream in somebody's head. she pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam, she pictures a soul with no leak at the seam .... nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey, nowhere in the suburbs, in the cold light of day, there in the midst of it so alive and alone, words support like bone ...
Mercy Street by Peter Gabriel