You’re sitting in front of me   Our bus isn't coming   I think I’m going blind   Or is everything losing its color      I made it clear to you   My sleep is restless   My heart is divided   Quarters, halves, & eighths   I’m in love with this feeling   This invisible feeling.      What I wanted to say   Would have sounded all wrong   In that crazy pitch of my   Pidgin stammering knotted tongue      I’m used to it, this city   The smell of it, the gray dust of it   I know that’s rain coming   to wash it over   clean it away      I’m used to it, this feeling   The comforting, the reviling   I’m used to it, this city   The comforting, the reviling