Metal Railings
Urban Chronicles: Silver Railings and the Stories They Hold
Lyrics
In the half light of the city, we contemplate our worth
In the dim illumination of the city, we reflect on our value
As we make the slow migration from the center to suburb
While we undergo the gradual move from the city center to the suburbs
The dusk, the conversations, soften the shabby face
The evening and the discussions soften the worn-out appearance
The silver metal railings, penning these estates
The metallic railings, silver in color, enclosing these residential areas
The sound I hear is golden, the stories of their day as they retreat
The sound I perceive is precious, narrating the experiences of the day as people withdraw
They're not poor but they're not rolling and bring to night a warm humility
They are not impoverished but lack excess, bringing a warm humility to the night
In the half light of the city, you cannot see the hurt
In the faint city light, the pain is not visible
In the eyes of working families that see progress as a curse
In the eyes of working families, progress is seen as a burden
As we pass along the prison walls, my head bows at the thought
Passing by prison walls, I bow my head, contemplating the struggles
Of the mothers and the fathers who are carrying their cross
Thinking of parents carrying their burdens, symbolized by crosses
The silver sun in failing on young ones who were sent down in their prime
The fading sunlight falls on young individuals sent down prematurely
Like the silver metal railings, a symbol of our freedom in decline
Similar to the silver metal railings, representing our diminishing freedom
In the half light of the city, it's where they would have hid
In the faint city light, a hiding place they might have sought
These ancient streets and corners where my parents played a kids
These historic streets and corners where my parents played as children
Me Ma, she came from Summerhill, Me Da, Dominick Street pack
My mother from Summerhill, my father from Dominick Street
They moved them out and tore them down, they were forever looking back
They were relocated and the old places torn down, forever yearning for the past
I miss their city saying, the D they'd put between the R and L
I miss their distinctive way of speaking, the emphasis on the 'D' between 'R' and 'L'
And their devotion for praying, that our place found in this wordld was not a cell
And their commitment to prayer, hoping our existence in this world is not a confinement
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