I am the quiet observer,

Sitting all alone,

I like to watch the dreamers,

Amidst the rush-hour drone.

Moving like a river,

Through the landscape of the town,

A thousand different dreamers,

And none without a frown.

I am the quiet observer,

Sitting in the park,

I saw the pastel shades of dawn,

Welcomed by the lark.

The lunchtime brought the dreamers,

Enjoying this green place,

A chance of quiet connection,

A chance of change of pace.

I stand and watch as days go by,

A witness to the play,

The old ones and the ravens,

Come for dreamers everyday.

I am the quiet observer,

Sirens break my thoughts,

Police arrest the homeless,

To drag before the courts.

Meander down the back streets,

Then multistory stairs,

Past smells, and stains, and spray-cans,

proof that no one cares.

I am the quiet observer,

I’m fourteen storey’s high,

And I can see the city lights,

Against the cobalt sky.

So this is where the dreamers choose,

To toil, and work, and play,

And seek their fame and fortune,

Until the final day.

I stand and watch as days go by,

A witness to the play,

The old ones and the ravens,

Come for dreamers everyday.

I am the urban druid,

I choose to be this way,

Communing with the green man,

Who’s hiding in the grey.

And lost and lonely spirits,

Through city streets they roam,

I’m calling to the raven,

To come and take them home.