Hiding Out Pete Townshend / White City - A Novel From my window I see roads Lead to darkness, leading home In the midnight of a soul's unsleeping Hear the waterfall of women weeping Hear the distant noise of traffic stalling Hear the prostituted children calling From the barred and mess-floor street Of a winter's night, without a moon, I am safe-hidden here. Hiding out I look over chequered fields And the towering web of steel Young and old will sit and judge unfeeling While the empty churches' bells are pealing And the green hills lay ignored, untended Lonely watchers remain unfriended And out in the one-way streets Is a swelling maze, without a door I am safe-hidden here Hiding out