I say, “good morning” to the soaking bloody streets
A sliver of sun winks behind the clouds still full of sleep
Heartache rains down upon her as it does inside of me
Cleveland may be a joke, it to me she’s everything
With her, I’ve bled, I’ve cried
Been held at gun point, arrested and nearly died
A couple dozen times
Just her and I
Dark, dreary Cleveland lullaby
It’s so hard for me to live outside my head
Sometimes I wish this city would wrap me in her arms
And take me with her to her depths
The desolation of this old town is so beautiful
It makes me lose my breath
Just like me, this place will never change
On a downward spiral, circumstance is what we blame
As we try in vain to hide the pain
Just her and I
Sweet, sorrowful Cleveland lullaby
Lake Erie, she flows inside my veins
She’s notoriously dirty, but my blood is just the same
The sun sets behind her, as the lights dim inside my brain
Beauty trapped in silence
Encased within the freezing waves
As kindred spirits, we weep together as one
We hold the pain much more than some
The lucky few, aloof to the darkening view
Just her and I
Frozen, heartbroken Cleveland lullaby
Down below, I hear the shouts amongst the screams
Sporadic gunshots, sirens wailing constantly
I believe the sounds are meant, only just for me to see
This city and I will never let ourselves be
We run away, as if our scars won’t show
We try to fly away swiftly
The same as a Nor’easter blows
In her puddles, dead dreams float
Still it’s just her and I
Soul stealing, Cleveland lullaby
A solitary lamp illuminates a circle on a nearly blacked out street
It seems the perfect place for us heathens to meet
A sudden stillness in the air
Belies the foreboding tension we’ve yet to greet
So I say, “goodnight” to these invisible tarnished golden streets
Abandoned buildings, burned out house and struggle
Instead is all I see
The violence in these streets
Is befitting of her history
Nothing here can save her life
Blood sheds as easily as the tears we cry
Sweet love of my life
Dearly beloved, Cleveland lullaby
About the Creator
Rory Patrick
Writes poetry, songs, prose, essays. Depression, addiction and struggle being main influence.Musician, guitar, mandolin, ukulele and piano .History & literature lover(Emerson, Camus, Kafka) Leukemia survivor. Recovering heroin addict
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