Fuji and I
Protector
When the last tube train has left the station, when the only light is the wet reflections of the neon shop signs, when the foxes come out of their hiding places and when the only sound is the swoosh of the late night delivery trucks along the empty streets, then the protectors come out -- they watch over the streets and the creatures of the city. They are part of the city. They are the city. From what do they protect us, you might ask, if you believe in them. Well, if you don't know, then they, the protectors, are doing a good job of it, right?
Protector
When the last tube train has left the station, when the only light is the wet reflections of the neon shop signs, when the foxes come out of their hiding places and when the only sound is the swoosh of the late night delivery trucks along the empty streets, then the protectors come out -- they watch over the streets and the creatures of the city. They are part of the city. They are the city. From what do they protect us, you might ask, if you believe in them. Well, if you don't know, then they, the protectors, are doing a good job of it, right?