it's just cobblestone milestones, and sidewalks built from rubble
the man on the corner makes eye contact,
because he's normally used to more trouble
than a couple of kids cursing back and forth
spit cuts through fog, like a hot knife, into a cold piece of home
or in simpler terms, not being alone
or in broader terms, a monogram sewn on an aging throne

well it's a city of misfits, going on millennia,
forests of forget-me-nots, and misguided cosmonauts,
and piece of a thing that is broken, but regretfully so
spit cuts through fog, like a memory comes and then goes
parlor tricks, have a tendency to change your tone.
and if i come to terms, with what we can't find, find my niche within the unknown,

Burn baby burn baby burn baby burn,
You'll never know how pretty you glow in the dark, when the city goes dark,
Burn baby burn baby burn baby burn burn,
You'll never know how pretty you will glow,

the nightingale alone, on a fence post, next to a coffee shop cafe, feathers on display,
if you’re a martyr, is there a signal that shows?
she, poor bird, as all forlorn, sidewalks don’t speak, they just wane and then warn, of a decline,
but could they be more specific?
oh faithful friend, unwavering wings, are you as prepared as me for what the shock soon brings?
because the trees don’t speak, there’s no cobblestone poets, so what if fortune never sings?

Burn baby burn baby burn baby burn,
You'll never know how pretty you glow in the dark, when the city goes dark,
Burn baby burn baby burn baby burn burn,
You'll never know how pretty you will glow,

It's just forget me nots, and misguided cosmonauts, and thick layers of fog that drowned out the applause, and disparaged the cause, and all of it was left to be labeled as free

Burn baby burn baby burn baby burn,
You'll never know how pretty you glow in the dark, when that city goes dark,
I know that I'm gone and I know as it burns, but I'm afraid at this point we have larger concerns
burn baby burn baby burn, I know