Haunted by the phantom people
Walking round the empty street
The world that frolicked, gamboled, sauntered
Overnight has lost its beat 

Lackluster its former glory
Grown dim its once gilded sheen
Bleak, drab, joyless, long forgotten
Yesterday is but a dream

Yet outside the trees are budding
Grass is fresh, the air smells sweet
The world that slumbered, suffered, waited
Overnight has found its beat