Arrogance

I can't recall the day this city felt so insecure.
When meter maids and janitors paced up and down the floor.
The Motown jazz flowed heavenly inside the city square,
And unapologetic love and freedom rooted there.
But dead brown leaves and dried up roots leave little hope for change,
And fire burns through everything and scatters something strange.
The coffee toasts and selfish boasts have died inside these sins,
And overflowing garbage falls from dented refuse bins.
The crooked smiles and copied styles of a hundred selfish men
Can't raise the hope or lower a rope to the people trapped within.
The sickly sweetness of that smell draws far too many in.
They'll lick it up from off the floor and wash it down with gin.
The paper burns with fever as the truth gives way to lies.
The people celebrate their loss with hunger in their eyes.
Music plays and people dance a horrifying tune,
And love dies out in harmony to violence they croon.
"Where is love and where is hope?" they cry with violent tears,
As they strangle out the last of it and pull apart the gears.