Black are the shadows of buildings at night,
Dark clouds are heavy like wool made of steel,
Streetlights have depressing, dim yellow light,
Past Soviet towers, their mood you can feel.

Concrete grey giants tell stories of pain,
Cold wind brings tidings lost somewhere in time,
Heavily falls down an intrusive rain,
Soaking those walls just so you can not climb.

Eyeliner washed down like desperate black tears,
Anguish and joy here are merging to one,
Endless dark windows of cubical fears,
Relics of an age that is not fully gone.

Look at those giants, what do you see?
Do you feel unease and poetic ache?
Look at those shadows, be honest with me,
Their feelings black will your spirit unmake.