On the seventeenth floor, I stare from my window
A thousand orange tombstones stretch out in a line
Ten million sleep as the taxis keep moving
In what was a village ‘til 1949
Always awake if you know the right places
Smiles and tears from behind cigarettes
There’s boys from Jamaica and girls from Ukraine
They all know your name, although you’ve never met
It’s only a memory
It’s only a dream
It’s only a lesson that you never learn
You’re able to visit but cannot return
Some leave at two when their class is at twelve
Some leave at six when they’re teaching at nine
Street food for breakfast before the sun rises
Bottles of water replacing rice wine
Call it a bubble in more ways than one
A thousand orange tombstones, they’re still building more
They’ll never be filled but the city keeps growing
And I watch it awake from the seventeenth floor
It’s only a memory
It’s only a dream
It’s only a lesson that you cannot learn
You’re able to visit but never return
supported by 11 fans who also own “Orange Tombstones”
this fits well into the late 90s-early 2000 era of rock music. Has some of that same spunk of punk rock from bands like green day to me. It's a head banger for sure daneascott