Shantih, shantih, shantih...peace, peace, peace. Peace.
New York City, where is your horizon?

The best view of the city is from roofs.
Watching people kiss on fire escapes
The horizon, a jagged, broken, line.

There is broken glass all over Brooklyn
Like something once whole was dropped to the ground

Above ground, buildings rise up like giants
Trying to get their own piece of the sky
Spreading wings like shadows across the ground

Across town, people live high up, up enough
Not to see the ground, but to see the sunrise

Below ground, people squirm, and crawl, like worms
Trying to get their own piece of the earth.
Shantih, shantih, shantih. Peace, peace, peace....peace.