These city streets
Illumuninate at the touch
Of anyone who even
Cares to see
Everything that lies beneath
Kept secret by the little beats
Of hearts that bled
For you and me
To remain here
While they paint dollar targets
On the backs of the poor
As they shut the door
Once and for all
On everything that ever
Made this city cool
It’s heart and soul
I’m visiting Chicago, and talking to people from here, they have the same inner-city displacement problems as San Francisco. This country was built on colonialism and displacement. Nothing has changed except the platitudes.