Better Days
I get up at six forty five, to catch the bus downtown
To be at work at eight and it takes the long way around.
Out of the heart of the city, on the blacktop veins
Past where the hollowed bodies of better days remain
Better days when, these buildings were alive
In better days when the whistle wailed at five
In better days, we never thought we’d ever have to say,
Those sure were better days.
I remember the night that you and I
went walking to the building’s door
And the weight of the vacant promises
shook us to the core
I put my arm around you
as the cold wind spoke
and we dreamt of raising a family here now
in a life we would never know
Dad was a union man like his dad was before
But I limp off the bus to what’s left for us
at the dollar down discount store
A nickel over minimum wage,
with the hours never guaranteed
A toothless desperate smile will tell you
that the work’s done overseas
And it leaves, folks like me and you longing for these
Better days when these buildings were alive with the sound of building something better
On which we could rely
In better days we never thought we’d ever have to say, those sure were better days.
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