This effete city drinks my energy
a million engines start to scream
there's a crowded sort of emptiness
with a lack of blue and green
And the gray chokes off the joy
as the poison puddles up
eloquently making toasts
while we're holding busted cups
But there's power in these teardrops
warmth in a given touch
and this importunate progress
doesn't seem to matter much
Find worth in what is shattered
or the vacuity of wealth
for the strength is in the fragile
who finds magnanimity in himself
10/10/07
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