Sick of the City (Sick of Myself)

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Danny Horn & the Shared Myths

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Lost in the crowd of Trafalgar tonight
Though I'm wired, I'm really too weary to fight
Morning is haunting me, memories daunting me,
You in my periphery taunting me
A stain on the window blocking the sky
The shape of you still stuck in my eye
Smoke in the distance, dust on the shelf
Am I sick of the city or sick of myself?

I'm exhausted by all that you do
The activist, hedonist muscling through
Maybe it's me, maybe I'm growing cynical
But your struggle seems a little bit clinical
So meet me instead on a level ground
Present to me all the evidence that you found
Take it with salt and I'll wish you good health
I'm sick of the city and sick of myself

Please, please Athena return to me
Give me strength to make a move
I have nothing left to offer them
Nothing left to prove

I bought a new raincoat, I stitched on the wings
Now I'm flying through all of these meaningless things
Mud in the river, blood in the veins.
Shattering windows and rattling trains.
What was once ordered is now rearranged
Nothing is tangible, everything's strange
But I wear it with grace and I wear it with style
But I'm sick of the city, I been sick for a while

I been sick for a while so I give it some thought
What I once knew will now be untaught
Turning away from another mechanical
Algorithm and another tyrannical
Preacher of soundbites, of struggle and strife
'Tired of London, Tired of Life'
But my heads out the window and I feel it blow
Sick of the city and I think that I'll go

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