Thought I'd transcribe these; they seem oddly appropriate to this city at this time.
Look over there, you used to say
The shape of the land beneath the street
Ridges and valleys and underground streams
You have to know what's under your feet
So you can make things strong enough
To take the weight
The weight of all the people
That haven't been born.
That's what you said to me
It's the envy of angels
Listen to that, you used to say
Can you hear someone drawing plans
Can you hear someone cutting wood
Can you hear someone walking the land
And all the time I wanted to be
Somewhere that wasn't so new
Where you didn't have to dig yourself out
A place to stand
Far away
From the envy of angels
Driving to your place after dark
The lights of the town behind these hills
I'm wanting so much to see you again
I can almost touch the new tarseal
In front of my wheels
They're painting the signs
Measuring the land
Marking the lines
Pouring foundations
Making it strong
For all of those people
That haven't been born
Just like you said
It's the envy of angels
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