Alexisonfire

Pregnant teens on the Barton street bus
Hard-up people living off crust
And there’s a beat-up town car - it’s starting to ruse
Hard soles are kicking up dust
Half a million people living in the corpse of the brown brick 50’s
To the north, all the small town outcasts are now big city bourgeoisie
All the boys in the halfway houses
Wave to the girls of Emerald Street
Our calloused fingers, blood red on the brick - but we hold on
We’ll never falter, though they want us to slip - we hold on
The desperate, downtown stealing bikes
Drunks in the village are picking fights
So, police like the streets to read them their rights
No controlling hot summer nights
The sun goes down on the edge of town, at the end of everyday