lyrics for song 2
Memoirs to my time spent in the city.
In my hand I held a flier
A parchment of glorious sing.
It tells me: This country
We are living!
See the work we paid
The paths we’ve laid.
Come! See your world!
Maybe it was my gaze that was confused.
Where are the golden roads
Where are the brazened statues
The salutes to freedom
Where these broken bottles lay.
There are a million places on every street
And none of them will hire me.
Oh god, this land of prosperity
Oh god, my only family.
Just that my ghost would appear,
To send me a home or an ending
And not their guilt or fear
A friend I met along my journey
His misshapen face, his mishandled life
His Pockets, of emptiness rife
And I spoke to him about the dry season
His wrinkled smile, unspoken reason
And I left the city with little else.
In my hand I held a flier
A parchment of glorious sing.
It tells me: This country
We are living!
See the work we paid
The paths we’ve laid.
Come! See your world!
Maybe it was my gaze that was confused.
Where are the golden roads
Where are the brazened statues
The salutes to freedom
Where these broken bottles lay.
There are a million places on every street
And none of them will hire me.
Oh god, this land of prosperity
Oh god, my only family.
Just that my ghost would appear,
To send me a home or an ending
And not their guilt or fear
A friend I met along my journey
His misshapen face, his mishandled life
His Pockets, of emptiness rife
And I spoke to him about the dry season
His wrinkled smile, unspoken reason
And I left the city with little else.