Jakarta by night

So,

so you think you can tell?

Heaven from hell,

blue skies from pain.

Can you tell a green field

from a costy rain,

a smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

Or did they get you to trade?

You're heroes for ghosts,

hot ashes for trees,

hot air for a cool breeze,

cold for change.

Did you exchange?