As I stand waiting at the crosswalk

I hear voices from hundreds of people talk

The smell of car exhaust fills the air

I'm getting passed by people in strange suits that they wear

The noise of car horns blare

You can cross without the walk sign if you dare

Chances are you will get hit by a cab

Sights of street art all over a cement slab

This city is strange but Bansky has definitely been here

I can recognize his style of graffiti anywhere