Crackle lights, cried cheap, cried plenty, cried out our history,
A world free flowing – breast beer tap on full. Three stories high here
Starry night through broken windows, that was Eddie’s old town.
But Ed gone and closed shop and culture ain’t in style no more.
Once, Jewish woman sells underwear there, and she gets by
She gets by
We get by.
She made a dentist, who made a lawyer, who made me, who
Watches the lights flick off forever, end of history.
Urban planning beating our legacies into the dirt
Bad puns burning bright, the street lights hiding what we flocked to
See the art? See signs? See us dancing, cheap liquor in hand?
Heads bobbing, bodies stay still, poetry rings through our ears–
As we watch the snow fall, steal old books. Put them back again.
Something green, southern madness. Would you like your fortune read?
Decorations spanning decades, colour lights on our lips,
Lights hung before we were babies, we are kissed in the cold.
Little comic shops. Old posters for sale
Burning candles, a job well done, the company I keep.
Everything we loved was here for taking, gone away.
All our friends were here, our lovers, where honesty raged and
Where we danced,
Where we sang,
where we watched, where we drank, where we read where we were read too,
where we tried to live.
But Ed’s all gone now, and taken our Mirvish blues away.
Urban plans here to stay. Cuz culture ain’t in style no more