New Topsoil

[Verse 1]
The sodium glare from the lamps on Woodward Avenue
Paints a false dawn on the boardroom window, it's true.
We stand on the concrete our fathers poured by hand,
Feeling the ground getting softer than they ever planned.

[Chorus]
They're talking 'bout new topsoil, a clean pedigree,
Forgetting the deep roots of you and of me.
Oh, this city's good blood runs under the street.

[Verse 2]
The architectural models are sterile and white,
The hum of the HVAC is too clean, too bright.
"It's just deadheading," he says, adjusting his tie,
While we're out here learning a brand new goodbye.

[Bridge]
Remember the petrichor on the Belle Isle grass?
We swore that the feeling was grafted to last.

[Chorus]
They're talking 'bout new topsoil, a clean pedigree,
Forgetting the deep roots of you and of me.
Oh, this city's good blood runs under the street.

[Outro]
The sodium glare from the lamps on Woodward Avenue,
And we're just the perennial dust on the glass they see through.