Music: Anna Tivel
God bless this city, steel-beamed and starless
Exhaust and graffiti, a dirty glass forest
Surrounded by faces, always a tourist
God bless this city, I've just gotta say this
Whole thing is really keeping me humble
The discount groceries and the timing-belt trouble
I'm waking up early, I'm bussing the tables
This whole thing is really a hopeless equation
The math doesn't add up, there are holes in the fabric of dreams, you see right through
Good luck to the lucky few, and God bless the rest of us fools
And God bless my neighbor, her pit bulls barking
The boyfriend who robbed her was searching for something
To ease that feeling, that mortal labor
God bless that woman, she always waves at
The old Russian couple who walk in circles
Bright-colored kerchief and hard-world smiles
The harshest language is one that fails to
Give a person endless value
The math doesn't add up, there are holes in the fabric of dreams, you see right through
Good luck to the lucky few, and God bless the rest of us
And God bless this country, I cry about it
Gold dust blooming from black gunpowder
A proud explosion of hope and anger
God bless this whole mess, and God bless my neighbors
The purple-bicycle kid rides home
His arms outstretched in the flight path, soaring
A pickup swerves and honks his horn
If God exists, that math is holy