I've been falling harder with this city's decline.
|
And I know I'm not getting any smarter.
|
Every blackened skyline has some failure in mind that rains on down around quitting time.
|
And we drink in gulps, through sobs and old gridlock;
|
trekking for wiles the longest damn street in the world.
|
And although we're young wide eyed and crooked tongued, we're sick of our streets.
|
Don't know how to love them.
|
Concrete's made us stronger because one thing's for sure;
|
these pop songs don't come easy anymore.
|
Our mayor's been shooting for the 'leftist crator.'
|
But that's gone south like town hall jumpers.
|
Hell, I'll just ask Jane Doe 'bout all the lengths
|
one goes to turn up the volume on the neighbourhood screams and shrieks;
|
to want to paint it red, until the chief is dead and paraded downtown all damn day.
|
So let them bury me anywhere but home because it's been so long,
|
I don't care where I'm from.
|
I've never been homesick as long as I've walked all alone.
|
Just let them bury me anywhere but home because it's been so long,
|
I don't care where I'm from.
|
Though hallowed, still shallow, this ground couldn't keep my ghost down.
|
Assaults we still permit our poet-politic:
|
my violet bruises grand as sunsets that we missed?
|
We're still falling for old talk 'bout newer mores;
|
Habourfront circus plans where once we took a stand.
|
|
-----------------
|
Cobra Constant Committee Bake Sale
|
Bombs Over Providence |