Architects and Engineers

I live on the second floor, Of an old row house down in Baltimore, Watching all the colors and the shades, Standing tall up here, My face against the window, My face against the window These moments they can never last, Like a sad old man with his photographs, Wishing for the things he cannot change, Standing tall up here, My face against the window, My face against the window So the architects and the engineers, Think of monuments, think of souvenirs. Do your occupants? It's a trap, this town, Do you burn it up? Do you fade it out? Be your shooting star.

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