The winter New York sky
Is an awful pretty place
Till the clouds start turning colors
And the city burst in flames
Hot soup sitting on the stove
Cold hearts after we’ve been traveling
The windows full of flashbacks
And the flashbacks trying to get us

The winter New York sky
Is an awful pretty place
Till the clouds start turning colors
And the city burst in flames
Hot soup sitting on the stove
Cold hearts after we’ve been traveling
The windows full of flashbacks
And the flashbacks trying to get us

We both been in this town too damn long
To not jump at the sight of explosion
And we both been walking down this road quite alone
To not be carrying cases of emotions
So when December silence becomes Event Horizon
And we’ve barely started unpacking our bags
It’s visions of our twenties
9/11 memories
And it’s wondering if this is an attack
Before there was a feed to check and checks were waiting tables
We were making our mistakes over the counter
On the same streets the same spots and the same surroundings
But never bounded into one another
It took a sister making brother husband their to need discover
The DJ to hold it down think to suggest it
A couple hundred miles from the borough we both nest in
Lay the mountain vista where we connected
But underneath the Gotham sky we’ve been crossing paths
Since before that September never forgetting
I harken back to that day and the classroom I was teaching
When the airwaves started filling up with screaming
And somehow find comfort in the fact she was just across the river
Watching the same harrowing scene from a distance
There’s something in the scars that becomes that of the body
And what’s body is for sure to carry on
So when the Thursday clouds erupted the familiar sight was gutting
And we leapt into each other’s arms

The winter New York sky
Is an awful pretty place
Till the clouds start turning colors
And the city burst in flames
Hot soup sitting on the stove
Cold hearts after we’ve been traveling
The windows full of flashbacks
And the flashbacks might just get us

It’s a miracle we made it to our ages and these stages
Then collided under Virgo constellations
With all of our damaged spaces expectations and sensations
Inhibitions information predilections predications
Complications family traumas stuff with daddy stuff with momma
Suffering then finding ways to get down to the bottom
Maybe with a sponsor or maybe some sort of combo
Of cosmic wondering poetry writing mic in a palm
The point is it ends up one
And bet that shit don’t happen with the wave of a magic wand
Some days are like Babylon some days it’s the garden calm
Don’t change that we till and build not a factory but a farm
Growing something from nothing while the organic substance
Takes root in the bed we nightly lay and love in
And fuck if I’m not tough with all my personal struggles
That teach me when I confront them
In the meantime I can be bugging
As I’m seeking and I’m sulking to be perceived that I’m bumming
About us
That couldn't be further from the truth
But then something out of nothing becomes something
That we’re stuck with from an adolescent umbrage or an auntie or an uncle
And we’ve both got newish nephews and a slew of sleeping devils
The way we work to slay them is amazing on a level
That I never felt or saw
Like that September morn
When the memory is raw
Tonight I could hold her heart