Coming Up

Ani DiFranco

Our father who art in a penthouse
Sits in his 37th floor suite
And swivels to gaze down
At the city he made me in
He allows me to stand and
Solicit graffiti until
He needs the land I stand on
I'm my darkened threshold
Am pawing through my pockets
The receipts, the bus schedules
The urgent napkin poems
The matchbook phone numbers
All of which laundering has rendered pulpy
And strange, loose change and a key
Ask me
Go ahead, ask me
Go ahead, ahead ask me if I care
Go ahead, ask me if I care
I got the answer here
I wrote it down somewhere
I just gotta find it

Somebody and their spray paint got too close
Somebody came on too heavy
Now look at me made ugly
By the drooling letters
I was better off alone
Ain't that the way it is
They don't know the first thing
But you don't know that, how they take that
Until they take the first swing
My fingers are red and swollen from the cold
I'm getting bold in my old age
So go ahead, try the door
It doesn't matter anymore
I know the weak hearted are strong willed
And we are being kept alive
Until we're killed
He's up there
The ice is clinking in his glass
He sends me little pieces of paper
I don't ask
I just empty my pockets and wait

It's not fate
It's just circumstance
I don't fool myself with romance
I just live
Phone number to phone number
Dusting them against my thighs
In the warmth of my pockets
Which whisper history incessantly
Asking me
Where were you

I lower my eyes
Wishing I could cry more
And care less,
Yes it's true,
I was trying to love someone again
I was caught caring
Bearing weight
But I love this city, this state
This country is too large
And whoever's in charge up there
Had better take the elevator down
And put more than change in our cup
Or else we
Are coming
Up