I often like to walk
along a foggy street by night
and watch the ghostly shadows
creeping out of sight
the street lamps are many moons
cast from a golden glow
through my hair midnight
winds softly blow
then I near the pier
and across from me
there stands
a million sleeping cities
in far off distant lands
my eyes are fixed
at the dark lying at my feet
I hear an abysmal whistle
sound where all the vessels meet
as I turn to leave
the waters edge
I pull my collar high
I leave my problems
behind me then sigh
on this mysterious night
while walking in the fog
I can not describe
my feelings for
I am only a dog
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