This forlorn city will be
(quite frankly) the death of me.
If I could leave, if only.
A part (a small one, mind you) would be relieved.
For a while I would benefit from new frontiers,
until the siren call of this city get caught in my ears.
Not until the siren song drive me insane, not till me ears bleed.
(For the moment) I would rather die
than live in a lie
in the forlorn city.