The cityscape cowers beside the desk Concrete kingdoms hide glass and brick The adjacent high-rise hides half the skyline A hotel sinks in anonymous uniformity.
Twelve lights disturb the chalky colour scheme Before comfortable sepia returns to greyscale Fatigued blue lights turn to gold and brown; Ash to brick, fog to smoke, cold... to warm.
Wreckers creep forward as the crowds shriek, The brutalists weep the loss of a legacy As all around marvel at what sits behind Nostalgia blinds us with the tearing of bandages.
The camera pans right, the dust curtain moves east The show goes on, the crowd stand amazed Fallen protagonists cannot hide past misdemeanors The hero's were in the prelude, not the denouement.
Cranes move in, mile high ladders move beams. Rebuilding the city to obscure its history The scars themselves in their mid seventies The tragedies which bore the bones of fragility.
When bombs rain and recession follows The buildings we raise are only temporary Let us thank those who battled their right to exist Their former glory is now something missed.
People will grow attached to what they know, No matter how ugly it may appear to be.