I wrote 'City of Rocks' on a particularly lonely night of December 2008 in New York City. It was Saturday at 9pm in Tribeca, but not a soul walked the black ice covered streets with wind howling into the underground. This title track is about a man unable to find a lasting emotional connection. Everything and everyone has turned into an artifact, a metaphor.

He is, he is estranged
He is, he is estranged

Yeah, this city is made of rocks, it's made of rocks
Love, love is an artifact, it's an artifact
Yeah, he's got a lover to speak of
His steel bridge across the bay
Like, lights in an office building at 1 am

Non, je ne suis pas solitaire
Cette ville est solitaire, cette ville est solitaire
Non, je suis solitaire

Perhaps he wasn't raised with the love that you were raised with
Like graffiti on orphan walls he likes it cryptic and strange
Manic depressive sudden weight gain a love that
That'll always stay
Yeah, this city is made of rocks, and the wind is cold

I see now
I feel now
I see why
I know now