Where are the late night painters and poets and dreamers
The 24 hour coffee  shops with chipped saucers and street musicians  and black  and white photo opportunities
The 3:07 am philosophers and talkers and ******* this and **** that "I aint' workin' for the man" protest fighters
Where are the push back the day
I'm not finished with the night
Loners and monsters and strangers
Because normal isn't working and humans are disgusting
So I would rather walk alone
Than be part of a population wearing blinders pretending nothings wrong with living in a world that isn't safe for our sisters and our brothers sitting on the wrong side of a broken justice system
Its safer on the streets for rapists and murders
Than a girl in a short skirt or a man born with dark skin
Where are the architects of love and the masons of kindness and the engineers of empathy
Who's  gonna save us when heaven turns out to be empty
And there's no one there to wash away the blood off our hands for our crimes and sins against  humanity
Without the late night painters and poets and dreamers
The 24 hour coffee shops become ghost towns and the world crumbles
And the only thing beautiful for humanity to do is give itself to death