The city of cold,
Of ruins and old
Is giving me plenty of motives to stay.
Why do you cose to run away?
The city of ash,
Of tired and trash
Has given me shelter, support and protection.
Why do you act like it’s an infection?
This city of words,
Of sharp wounds and swords,
Stopped giving me life and a dream long ago.
Why do you act like I am the foe?

Epilogue:

Isn’t poetic justice a wonder?
I suffered so long and alone and I wonder
That if I didn’t trick you, the trick is on me,
And my trick was so easy to see.
I’m all under spells and under a thunder.
I can’t bear the burden of this ugly blunder.
I’m sorry I tried to lie and to steal.
I thought that this city was the real deal.