My city sleeps by the side of the freeway,
a city of scraps.
In the winter time she wore a yellow coat.
Now there's nothing on her back.
If a building falls you wouldn't care to notice,
unless you were in it.
And no one cares about climbing stairs,
nothing at the top no more.

Outside tripping in the broken city.
Outside tripping in the broken city,
I watch her bleed and crack.
Outside tripping in the broken city.
Outside kicking in the broken city,
there's nothing wrong with that.

Now the snow falls down like it's falling on an ocean,
dead and empty.
By the railroad tracks where they used to go and come,
now they don't come back.
You can hear the rust going up the throughways,
and down the alleys where they stole this town from the frontier.
I can seem them trying to steal it back.

Outside tripping in the broken city.
(Outside tripping in the broken city.)
Outside tripping in the broken city,
I watch her bleed and crack.
Outside kicking in the broken city.
(Outside tripping in the broken city.)
Outside tripping in the broken city,
there's nothing wrong with that.

Now the sun won't shine on this part of the map anymore.
When it's cold outside I see her hide behind the smoke stacks.
Nothing grows, there's no gold rush, no miners, no revolution behind her.
And the shipyard is a graveyard, no one will be trying to find her.

Outside tripping in the broken city.
(Outside tripping in the broken city.)
Outside kicking in the broken city,
I watch her bleed and crack.
Outside tripping in the broken city.
(Outside tripping in the broken city.)
Outside kicking in the broken city,
there's nothing wrong with that.

There's nothing wrong with that.
Outside tripping in the broken city.
Outside tripping in the broken city.
Outside tripping in the broken city.
Outside. Outside. Outside. Outside.
Outside. Outside. Outside.