My City,
It’s where I belong,
like waking up to a beautiful song

My City,
A city of different race, a city of love,
A city of light, soaring high and bright

But is that all true about this city?
No, not all is perfect
For this city can misdirect

What about that dark area over there father? Has it no grace?
You must never go there Simba, for it is a dark and shadowy place

Is this what is thought of this city?
Is there no resurrection?
No form of affection?

From beneath the monstrous and soaring heights can come hate and sorrow,
But there is still hope on the morrow

My City,
A city now being Rebuilt, Resurrected, Reborn.

It is not festinate as it is thought to be,
Not like the parching of a burning tree

It takes days and months, for this city to rebuild itself of its grievance,
For its citizens must demonstrate allegiance

My City,
Where People are affectionate to one another
Brother with sister; friends for the better

My City,
A city not broken,
But a charitable token
for the world

My City,
Where no one is judged
Where no one is grudged

Where people are treated fairly
And ask others merely 

This is My City
This is the city of light shining high and bright
A city not heaving with sighs in despair
A city not thought to abandon
Where wishes come true like in Aladdin
Because I have this passion
For the city of light I call… Brampton.