Standing at dawn, watching the end ‒ of beauty, identity, immunity.
The end is something to live for, Vancouver's an empty bottle.
Our dying thirst causing problems.
We stand at dawn, the beginning of something, heartfelt, replaceable.
Two-day booze, works faster.
My city on the water, spots of flame, midnight rain.
The glass sky reflects our prize.
Glass towers for sleepers; they're dying.
Broken city for dreamers.
Two-day booze works a faster fuse.
Two-day booze works faster.
Feels like falling.
Shame, like killing.
Children of tomorrow; earth's new rapists.
Spring rain comes; wash away the purpose.
Between our days, empty distance sways.
Copper wires pay, for days and days.
What are we waiting for?