Among These Ruins
There’s a dirty rainbow on a backstreet leaking from a tin.
Mangy cat sips up the color, scared and rail-like thin.
There’s the smell of rancid butter churning up the alleyway.
Chases me to full retreat to choose a colder day.
Oh, among these ruins, help me find the way.
Sitting in an outdoor café underneath the stars.
We sip our drinks, read our papers, cell phones cricket calls.
Plug my ears to passing sirens among these urban stones.
There’s a strange air of oblivion, dulls us to the bone
Oh, among these ruins, help us find the way.

Produced by Eric Barfield
Written, tracked, and mixed by me.

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