Poetica (iiO)

There are tourists and then there are residents In a city where the walls are filled with sound Basting off the floors Listening to your own thumping in the bass The wizards play sirens People march, some chant with the sound A lot of the tourists are smaller then their shell Funny they forget how small they really are in that grand city Some even forget where they came from The gatekeepers, they don't own the key They're merely robots that depending on how they feel on that day Extend their arms to remove and replace The rope that let's the quest in and out The city that only lasts a night Means nothing but a sound