You're sitting in front of me Our bus isn't coming I think I'm going blind Or is everything losing its color I made it clear to you My sleep is restless My heart is divided Quarters, halves, & eighths I'm in love with this feeling This invisible feeling. What I wanted to say Would have sounded all wrong In that crazy pitch of my Pidgin stammering knotted tongue I'm used to it, this city The smell of it, the gray dust of it I know that's rain coming To wash it over Clean it away I'm used to it, this feeling The comforting, the reviling I'm used to it, this city The comforting, the reviling