He grinds the butt under his boot, and breathes a white rope of smoke
Westward into the black sky
Over the woods where Mama says Eastside kids used to could find arrowheads
But have long since been bled dry
And eulogizing that wild old city
Where he had once found his peace
He points the bottle like a cannon down from the ridge
And out into the sprawl
"It's like they think downtown's cute, so they move in
And turn it into a god-damned mall."

As they hotboxed that tricked-out Japanese rocket, I stole breaths
Through the window, cracked open, tinted dark
I was stuck in between the fear of pissing cloudy
And the fear of coming off looking like a narc
They wore invincibility as if it were fine linen
Like kids from that side of the mountain often seemed to do
Holding my breath, I regretted picking their lunchroom table
And exhaled as we neared my parents’ block
We passed the squat green sign. They dropped the N-bomb
“Uh oh, City of Birmingham. Be sure to keep your doors locked.”
I said, “Goddammit…

I don't want to live in a tiny kingdom
I don't want to live beyond the city walls
I don't want to hide in my sin in a tiny kingdom
I don't want to die beyond the city walls
He and his sister are forever bent mid-laugh in black-and-white
In afros, in paisley, in youth
His finger smudges the out-of-focus brick apartments. He nods his greying head
Catty-corner to the empty lot, tangled with kudzu
The track-hoe groans behind the weedy curtain
(We hear that condos will be going up soon.)
Up the street, another building strangled with chain-link
They’ve already boarded up the doors
The dumpsters runneth over with soggy blankets and broken chairs. He says
"But, yeah, we've been here since '64."

We don't want to live in a tiny kingdom
We don't want to live beyond the city walls
We don't want the city turned into a tiny kingdom
We don't want nobody buried beneath the city walls
Tear down the city walls!