We've been walking
Underneath these city lights
For far too long.

That we forget
The grass is a mother's breast,
Soft as the night she was married,
They are calling you home.

Home to the tree that you breathe from.
Home to the noose that you swing from.
The North East is so cold,
And it's not just the weather.

It's a place where
Even the clouds are
Robbed of their ability
To soak in the sun.

Where every
"Promise me this"
Is the chain to a boulder,
Where even eagles
Acquire a taste for flesh.

You would think
That in a place with so much fire,
You would feel a beating heart
Inside the pebbles skipping.
Across a sea of people,
On the day that your
Aspiration became dreams.

We are all human,
But not everybody wants to be-

Some of us want wings
Made from candles,
but never really learned how to swim.

-come.
A little closer.

Let the fire in our bellies
Melt our cities into ashes,
We will take them to our mother,
And ask if we can come
Home.