This city street sleeps with a little more color
Met with the quiet ghost of rush hour past
As the last cars wander on the symmetric grids
That have more foresight than their own lives.
We've got nowhere to go tonight,
We've got memory cards and youthful hearts
To capture all the industrial light,
The afterglow of man's triumph.
Towers so tall, they arch on the weight in our eyes
And bump against explosions held by gravity.
We overstep with expectations of flight
And pride our lives in iconic stills
That only increase its sense of brevity.
We make own figures and fill it with paper,
Light it up, and breathe in its levity.