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Rain keeps fallin' on these broken streets,

Needle dreams and cardboard sheets.

Space Needle used to touch the sky,

Now it's just watchin' folks get high.

Pioneer Square don't sing no more,

Just the sirens and the liquor store.

Southern drawl can't hide the pain,

When the ferry bells sound like a funeral train.

Oh, Emerald City's turnin' grey,

Lost souls wander, lost their way.

Once a prize by the sea so blue

Now the ghost town stares at you.

Pike Place Market, rotten core,

Fish ain't flyin' like before.

Mountains weep behind the smog,

Even the seagulls sound so lost.

Third Avenue's a ghostly mile,

Where the dealers dance with hollow smiles.

Southern boy with a bass so low,

Sings the truth the rain already knows.

Oh, Emerald City's turnin' grey,

Lost souls wander, lost their way.

Once a prize by the sea so blue ,

Now the ghost town stares at you.