you told me on your birthday all the things that
this place had done to you
and in the streets you walk, you hide your face cause
they don't believe it's true
they say it doesn't happen that often
but it's happening right now
i'm writing you this
i'm not all right
the streets are still paved with hate
so cry yourself to sleep tonight, and say
"no there
aren't enough love songs in the sky"
You're counting down the days till you can say
"bye bye city, bye-bye"
You're walking down on Union, you see the roads and
know they're a part of you.
They say it doesnt happen that often
But it's happening right now.
I'm writing you a second time to let you know
you scratched away the street signs and you shot out all the stop lights
you smashed away the buildings, what would you have left?