← Back to selected works

Alone New Yorker · 2025

Above the rooftops

A long-form atmospheric song balancing urban distance with an exposed, human point of view.

Artist
Alone New Yorker
Written by
Benjamin Decraene
Release
2025

Lyrics

© Benjamin Decraene
Concrete sky above the tramlines
Smoke and satellites and cranes
I lean out over the city
Breathing in its quiet pain
My hands remember colder rivers
Stones and prayer flags in the rain
Now it's neon on the asphalt
And a stranger says my name

Every roof becomes a mountain
When the streetlights start to glow
If I close my eyes, I'm walking
Where the high winds used to blow

I'm still singing above the rooftops
Far from the rivers that raised me
Lights below me flicker like a prayer
I'm still singing above the rooftops
Holding the echoes that shaped me
Half in this city, half in thinner air

Pigeons circle like lost kites here
Sirens fade into the blue
I trace a map upon the chimneys
Every shadow points to you
In my pocket, folded sunrise
From a valley sharp and wide
All the snowfields in my memory
Melt into these city lights

Every roof becomes a mountain
When the windows start to shine
And this narrow ledge of concrete
Feels like an ancient, fragile shrine

I'm still singing above the rooftops
Far from the rivers that raised me
Lights below me flicker like a prayer
I'm still singing above the rooftops
Holding the echoes that shaped me
Half in this city, half in thinner air

If I fall, may I fall like snow
Soft and slow on all I know
If I go, may I go like rain
Back to the hills that said my name

I'm still singing above the rooftops
Till all the streetlights fade to blue
Every distant star a village
Every glow a home like you
I'm still singing above the rooftops
Till the dawn unhooks this night
Standing on this borrowed skyline
Drawing mountains out of light

Original lyrics. All rights reserved.