Architects & Engineers

I live on the second floor of an old Row house down in Baltimore. Watching all the colors and the shapes. 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 that cannot change. Standing tall up here. My face against the window. My face against the window. So the architects and the Engineers build their Monuments, make their Souvenirs. We are occupants. It's a trap, this town. We are burning up. We are fading out. We are shooting stars.