There are lions in this town. Footsteps stamp on the cobbled street. Poor lost souls desperately sweep, sweep, sweep. Cryers call out and ring their bells. There are lions in this town! Some poor maiden weeps the lost ones. Tending to her forgotten garden. Fouled up by shrieking beasts. There are lions in this town! Keep the smoke in, behind the dust shed. Here them laugh, and plot against. Those angry hoodlums wished they had some too. There are lions in this town. Babies cry for mothers milk, pushed about by grandma. The generational fights are lost on won. Fleshed out wounds that scar you deeply, when; There are lions in this town! Green turns to gold, gold turns to white. The steps you tread, get deeper with age. Frozen in time, and cold to touch. There are lions in this town.