In the rain they came
in from crooked park benches,
a prophecy for a faded city's skyline
where the clouds came down for an afternoon,
and cleared the streets so no one knew
what was had to share
in the heavy air.
Hovering over the river's shallows.
Hung in-between the art-deco and abandoned homes,
corner stations where lottery and prayer are mixed
into a resulting grey:
we can be more than what has been before.
There's a beauty in these buildings
that no one seems to ever see,
dreams painted up in all of our ceilings.
The beauty of this city
is there in us all
when our spirit is strong.
We sing to the grey
of all a smile leaves hidden
from our feet on desperate streets
that tie us together,
and you dance in the rain, oh, like you know
what it means to live
and never regret.
Above our heads clouds and towers become one:
architecture and atmosphere coupled.
Burnt-out buildings reveal our scars;
they better our love.
We are more than what they say we are!
There's a beauty in these buildings
that no one seems to ever see,
dreams painted up in all of our ceilings.
The beauty of this city
is there in us all
if our spirit is strong!
Believe in yourself...
Believe in your city...
Believe... Oh my god, believe!
