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