Raymond Hood dreamt of A city of towers, bridges of life. Shot through with air. Shot through with light. "A City Under One Roof." Structured and strange. Why on earth would anything stay the same? Black brick and gold trim It soaks up the illuminated night. Architecture of light. Sea-green terracotta on vermillion flame. It flows side by side, to and fro Architecture of controlled waves. Auburn limestone up a running frame. It races to the sky, in motion and growth. Architecture of a mountain of re-imagined stone... There's no such thing as contradiction. There's space, difference, and position. There's splits, ruptures, and divisions. Each cut from temporal blindness and vision. Bridges of style. He livened the city and squeezed Us inside. Blending our bodies into Azure skies. We follow ourselves into each other. Each to their own. All in together. Effect follows form. Effect will outlast. Where is there Truth in Concrete, steel, or glass?

Black glass and background, The city avoids me. A void, this world won't see me. Black glass and tarnish. The sound of creation, They built right through me. Absent the skylight, Follow the lighthouse, The voyager's landlocked, Adrift in the tarmac, Body devoid of a singular shape. The city is shining The city is shining The city is shining into itself, Like an inverted sun. A void, No one wonders where you Are from. The heaped up streets chocked by my body's unwanted heat. The city avoids me, Or at least it tries. Hiding itself in the dream Of the sky. Black glass and shadow The city absorbs me Like the wet of the rain. Black glass and crisis A void, the needle encapsuled The sphere. Absent the north star, Follow the traffic. The voyager's landlocked, Discreet in congestion Devoid of a singular name. The city is changing The city is changing The city is changing at speeds too Fast to see. It's running right through me Like I've become empty. The machines for displacing Re-space me. My face a farce of nostalgia. The city destroys me, Or at least it tries, Building new cities Out of reach in the sky... Black glass and background, The city avoids me. A void, this world won't see me. Black glass and tarnish, The sound of destruction. They built right through me. A void...

A straight shot third floor, Right side, red door; Keep your head down. a faint sound, The grinding of industrial machines. Late night, midtown; Someone's creeping in the red door. We're all hiding in the light, City of the Empire. There are bodies Behind white sheets, In white walls And they're unseen. Behind the red door, The walls seethe, Out the window, Just concrete. Someone's creeping in the red door. There are faces Behind white sheets. They're quiet And their life's cheap. We're all hiding in the light. City of the empire. We're all hiding in the light. Late night, midtown Where it's lowdown, The bound-ground. A faint sound, The grinding of industrial machines. A straight shot third floor, Right side, red door, Keep your head down. You're hat low. We're all hiding in the light. City of the empire. We're all hiding in the light. There are faces Behind white sheets. They peak out, And they don't leave. Behind the red door It's filthy. People sleep where They're working. We're all hiding in the light. City of the empire. We're all hiding in the light. City of the empire... Late night in midtown Where the sky disappears. Vendors selling secrets In sour breaths of air. Someone's creeping in the red door. They are lurking Like hunters On the night prowl. And their hungry For right now. Someone's creeping in the red door In the red light On the white walls Where it's unwashed. Somebody's spreading shame, You can smell it From the city drains. Below the lighthouse, In the dead-night, On the dark-roads Someone's creeping in the red door. Below the lighthouse, Eastbound, westbound. Midtown, Down-low and low-down. It holds the whole town. Below the skyline, Below the high-tide Where nobody's wide-eyed. Someone's creeping in the red door. A straight shot, Third floor, right side Red door...

He said, "Behold! We are suspended by invisible strings." We looked up, clinched to our feet. We should have fallen. So lost in the thought That this could be magic we sunk into awe. Finally the promise of splendor, We're finally surrounded How we always imagined. Earth has surrendered. We should have fallen. No strings attached. All that is weightless Can never collapse. There are horses in the sky, Hoofs towards heaven, Racing to nowhere Up the vertical plain. No strings... No strings... They galloped over steeples and spires And it didn't strike us as strange. We reach towards each other And feel nothing at all. No strings... No strings... We look through the mirrors And see nothing at all. No things... No things... The silhouette of the city's A cold silver shroud It feedbacks the clouds To keep all eyes off the ground. Even the blocks are unfixed from the grid. becoming floating facades in new spaces to live. The towers are constructed by shadow And light, Stone becomes streams. Life to desire and the touch-less Content of dreams. We hold to the city, Our memory's a collective mirage, Just as the brick of the past Is at flight in new walls. We should have fallen, No strings attached. All that is weightless can never collapse. There are horses in the sky, Racing to race We're chasing their tails Carving sky into tangible space. No strings... No strings... We are chasing the chase. We'd stop if we ever just thought it was strange. We reach towards each other And feel nothing at all. No strings... No strings... We look through the mirrors And see nothing at all. No things... No things... The silhouette of the city's A warm amber flood. It feedbacks the sun. To keep all eyes on what We wish to become.

I sit aside the city on Mies's Marble green bench, Only to sit. I fall into his singular space. The traffic up Park Ave's Absorbed by the fountains. The sound of water: Quenching, cleansing, free-flowing Remoteness. I'm thirst-less, purging, ripples of focus. On Mies's marble green bench. 53rd street slopes below me, Like the nadir of Manhattan. It all disappears. All things fall into the calm of the square. I sit aside the city on Mies's Marble green bench, Only to sit. I fall into his singular space. Before I sat down, I was steaming. I went northbound from downtown. The ground moved beneath me. I was speeding... The city's a theme park, A Dreamland, A thrill that carries a nightmare. It's wonderfully exhausting. You play parts 'til you're Jaded, destroyed, recreated. Creative destruction. Amazing! Each impending disaster Is pure exhilaration. I was clustered and anxious In congested constructions Of Midtown. The towers are restless, It seems like they are speeding. From a vertical stare, I swear that they are leaning. Impending disaster, It's Capital's law. At speed in a feeling I, strangely, seldom desire a pause... I sit aside the city on Mies's Marble green bench, Only to sit. I fall into his singular space. I watch Seagram's Beautifully calm honey-bronze skin. It's a serene curtain wall. It hides from the skyline, You hardly see it at all. So far away, Yet nowhere but here. Manhattan becomes a whisper, A slow golden glow. It's of no consequence, On Mies's marble green bench. I stare at the glass, Am I looking inside Or back at myself? I feel the weight of the world, Or is it the weight of myself? 53rd street slopes below me, Like the nadir of Manhattan. It all disappears. All things fall into the calm of the square. I sit aside the city on Mies's Marble green bench, Only to sit. I fall into his singular space.

Across the river, Manhattan unveils at night, Dropping it's masonry gown, Revealing its body of light. I watch with glowing eyes, Seduced by the silent song, The glimmered dance, The echoed calm. From the outside I travel in place, Ravished by light, There's a part of me I still need to chase. There's so much to learn, Learning oneself, Learning how to be heard, How to be felt. I look at the city and re-imagine myself. What can I teach? What can I be taught? Burning away to be dissolved in the light. Feeling the erotic lure of Manhattan at night... Downtown's a floating lantern, Glowing embers Up an open cavern I am full of language, Where does it take me? Midtown to Uptown's a lighthouse, Shining and beaming, Calling me Calling me. If I keep drifting Then maybe I'll make it. Where does it lead me? I'm drawn to the light, Feeling the erotic lure of Manhattan at night... Across the river Manhattan's a "play of brilliants," I float in the flood light. I'm silent, in my own stillness, Riding the ebb and the flow. The body is thrilling I am hoping and yearning an object of the city's "focal glow." The body is restless Sifting and searching Through "ambient luminescence." The light grows brighter, The deeper I go. There's so much to learn, Learning itself, learning how to be known, How to let others know. I travel in place Burning away to be dissolved in the light Feeling the erotic lure of Manhattan At night...

One can get lost when there's so much to miss in the grit of the grind. The rifts in the grid. I'm drifting uptown through mirrors reflecting uncertain times. There's no where to arrive. This street won't feel again as it does right now. It flows into me, same speed as sound. Everyone's so high and I'm falling down. It won't matter tomorrow, there's no talk in this town. I'm here all the time but, I'm just passing by. Chasing the cracks in my fracturing mind. I don't have space to know each of my lives. It's so easy to hide, walking alone under the dreaming skyline. There's so much to miss from my own black crystal of emptiness... One can get lost where the needles hiding the spheres. I feel my sense of the world dissolve and disappear. I'm drifting downtown through shadows where I'm only a glare There's no where to arrive. This block won't keep the shape that it holds right now. It's so imposing, I feel disavowed. Everything's so straight and I'm winding down. It won't matter tomorrow, nothing stays in this town. I'm here all the time but, I'm just passing by. Chasing the cracks in my fracturing mind. I don't have space to know each of my lives. It's so easy to hide, walking alone under the dreaming skyline. There's so much to miss from my own black crystal of emptiness...

So, You want me to move, do you? Just disappear, go underground, take your despair. Nah! I'll stay right here... You don't know who I am Watching me haunted, shouting at ghosts invading my skin. Look through my eyes. See, mine are steep tunnels that lead to deep puddles And I have sleep troubles. You don't have a clue. I lay awake at the base of the skyscraping tombs of Fifth Avenue. Oh! City of dead dreams. Yes, my dreams are dead. Create and destroy, I was created to be destroyed. A man in a void. Lost and unfound Lying awake on this burial ground. You don't have a clue. I lay awake at the base of the skyscraping tombs of Fifth Avenue. This city's paved over dreams. Rubble and wreck. Brick, mortar, and bomb. Sift, siphon, embalm. When the dust settles Most of me is shot through and gone. I'm a slip of the tongue. a rift in the world that you want. The cackling cans on this myth-maker street Do you want me to leave? Ask your own body how I've become it's disease? You don't know who I am, or how I'm alive. I talk to the dead and they offer me life. No, I won't leave! Ask your own body how i've become it's disease? You don't have a clue. I lay awake at the base of the skyscraping tombs of Fifth Avenue. Oh! City of dead dreams. Yes, my dreams are dead. Create and destroy, I was created to be destroyed. A man in a void. Lost and unfound Lying awake on this burial ground. So, You want me to move, do you? Just disappear, go underground, take your despair. Nah! I'll stay right here...

They built this for me. I live the same as The powers that be You take what you can I take what I want. You won't get what you need. Look in the sky, That shine so pristine, They built that for me. How did you sleep? I rested well Haunting your dreams. (Yes, that was me.) You'd do the same if you could, But, they built this for me. I live the same as the powers that be. Nothing is sharply defined Because what's made gets un-made. I've re-made spaces, changed shapes Until I made it And called it all mine. The finest of fine. Finery, finally, refined. My home is a gold-laced palace In a fenced kingdom of glass. My own prismatic sheen. It was plotted when I purchased A piece of the sky. All ships ahead, This is the brightest beacon For admiring eyes. Finally refined. "A city upon a hill" We cut the grid, Stripped the blocks, Gutted New York And pushed it away. Now look where I am, I stand in the clouds And stare down at the condemned. Tell me I'm cruel. It's not how one should think. You'd do the same if you could. But, they built this for me They built this for me. I live the same as the powers that be You take what you can I take what I want. You won't get what you need. Look in the sky, That shine so pristine, They built that for me. How did you sleep? I rested well Haunting your dreams. (Yes, that was me.) You'd do the same if you could, But, they built this for me. I live the same as the powers that be. Nothing is sharply defined Because what's made gets un-made. I've re-made spaces, changed shapes Until I made it And called it all mine. The finest of fine. Finery, finally, refined. Spare no expense. Extend where we can spend. Nothing is sharply defined. Write the cost on the walls, On the art, on the light in the sky. Write it on the shape and the size, How it imposes itself day into night. Write it on the oak we've cut From the forest,ì Stripped down and remade. It shines like a stone in our lobby's Precious display. Write it for the outer-boroughs Steeped in urban decay And the hordes down the blocks That are out of my way. Spare no expense... 25 Billion and counting, Finally refined. Now, look where I am. I stand in the clouds And stare down at the condemned. Tell me I'm cruel. It's not how one should think. You'd do the same if you could. But, they built this for me. I live the same as The powers that be You take what you can I take what I want. You won't get what you need. Look in the sky, That shine so pristine, They built that for me. How did you sleep? I rested well Haunting your dreams. (Yes, that was me.) You'd do the same if you could, But, they built this for me. I live the same as the powers that be.

How long does beauty last before it has to be explained? How long does it arouse before its dated and plain? There are plucked flowers and vestiges. What ifs and memories. nothing grows wild. The eye is invaded by armies of time. Day tarnished day, beauty isn't always sublime. Sometimes seeing is only seen for a while, then it goes blind. What did it see once before? Why can't it see it no more? We gut the lobby, Keep the shell. We gut the lobby, keep the shell We gut the lobby Keep the shell... This city's no capsule, preserving a past. It's a testing ground for disaster, chasing the creative thrill in collapse. The newness of action, destruction that's beautifully rash. Don't strap in too tight, or grow too attached or you'll just be a wreck in the beautiful crash. We gut the lobby, Keep the shell. We gut the lobby, keep the shell We gut the lobby Keep the shell... Oh! New York, New york, your beautiful neurosis has the proudest display. The Truth of the city is that it's always unmade. We race to destroy before the natural course of decay. It's an aesthetic compulsion, at ease in the fray. We're inspired and constricted in this beautiful absence of space. Create to amaze, without a message. Destroy to create, abstract cathexis. Just don't grow too attached, or you'll just be a wreck in the beautiful crash. We gut the lobby, Keep the shell. We gut the lobby, keep the shell We gut the lobby Keep the shell...