You streets in Sepia, how is it that you feel? Feets of no numbers rounded your stones and walked your edges.
Have you felt their sorrows? Have your felt their joys? Did you listen to whispered voices echoing through you? Did you listen to the endless tales told and foretold, while shadows hushed around corners, hiding behind vails of darkness and curtains of rain?
What laughter must you and only you know? You are the memory; It is you, who I listen to in the silence of this night.
You streets in Sepia, let me taste the salt of the air that you breathe; tell me a tale that I can tell; sing me a song that I can sing.
You streets in Sepia, feel how you belong.