Paper Streets

[Verse 1]
The GE clock-radio on the sill hummed a low E flat,
same as the horn on the container ships crawling past Yamacraw.
I’m redrawing the property lines around that specific Tuesday,
giving that water-stain you hated a historic designation.
Remember tracing the cracks with your small hand?
I’m telling you now that they were roads to somewhere good.

[Chorus]
(Sung by a different, ethereal vocalist)
Just paper streets and a summer rain.
Nothing to tear down, nothing to explain.

[Verse 2]
“Turn that gospel down,” Mama would say, “God ain’t listening today.”
And the air would get thick with chicory and low-tide pluff mud.
I filed a variance request with my own conscience,
to condemn the whole block where his voice used to be.
It’s a vacant lot now. Prime for redevelopment.

[Chorus]
(Sung by a different, ethereal vocalist)
Just paper streets and a summer rain.
Nothing to tear down, nothing to explain.

[Bridge]
(Sung by ethereal vocalist, with Booker’s ad-libs underneath)
Some foundations, you just have to pave right over.
Build a pretty park where the ground ain’t stable.

[Outro]
(Booker’s voice, a quiet whisper)
It's just paper, little brother.
It can’t hurt you if we never build it.