We built this grizzled crust of a city
Off of traveller’s checks
And grandfather’s tears.
We broke our own mirrors
In order to call the misfortune
We brought upon our people
Cultural heritage.
We revere the hypocrites
And trod upon the fertile soil of the soul.
What use is poetry in a world of technology?
We built this city out of the corpses of the enemy
Just to be able to truly call it ours.
And we have made homes for ourselves
Between the scrapyards and front-yard junk
Of our ancestors.
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned
Is a synonym for cowardice,
And now morale is wearing thin.
We built a obsolescent city;
It was always meant to cave in.
We built this city on the cusp of something great,
But we dirtied the river of expression,
And as of late encouraged oppression.
We built this city to be broken;
How could we have expected success
From a hyper-caffeinated people
Who toppled the columns of Justice, Prosperity, and Sleep.
We built this city from the charred remains of the last one,
So know that out of tomorrow’s ashes, it will rise again.
Candleships 