We make so many promises and we keep hardly any.
The least that we can say for ourselves is that we can laugh
And we can cry and we can steal what we need.
And we're just as scared as anyone else struggling for sense.
We've spent so many whole nights tearing the world limb from limb.
And finding nothing but ourselves, and that's what scares us most of all.
But when we're walking under streetlights
We know these buildings will never be as beautiful as us.
Huddled by the shortwave, cheering on the B.L.A.
We cried fro the ones and Ludlow and sang songs about those
Beautiful months in 1871.
And I'd like to think we've done our best.
We've been scared many a-time, but we've never given in.