On a new San Francisco morning

The morning was subdued and cold The sky the color of steel The drench coat man’s eyes the same tinge devoid of feel Seems like the city hit refresh A silence of calm

Lightly washed with tears from old fears As the street sweeper picks up the debris Now there’s no relics for the homeless No statues for the soulless Though they whisper their silent screams to the concrete Their faint calls are barely discrete Why do men preach to the icy wall For the lord listens not Clawing for life at the edge of a cliff Below them awaits the mountains’ open rift They aim for the light But the end of the tunnel isn’t in sight

Keep clawing, keep crawling, friends of life Don’t let go until the very last bite This mountain climb requires every bit of might

There’s some oxygen in this air Much more than that green capsule over there Stay away from it’s kiss Or it’ll steal you into the abyss And you’ll become one with the mist Feel it softly on your cheeks of triste

Still he stares at the golden statue

Abandoned eyes full of love and lyre

On a new San Francisco morning