No History

The future was a plane through a skylight
Over Tribeca at 8:45
My brother, at a conference room table
Watched the future rearrange all our lives

I was sleeping in her bed for the future
1st & 20th, five miles away
Her roommate knocked, he was a relative stranger
“Kev, I need you to come out here, okay, okay?”

The future was me, drunk at my desk job:
“Update the database, reflect the deceased.”
Cantor Fitzgerald as a digital graveyard
Next to each name, I typed a lowercase “d”

I was frightened by the face of the future
It had the teeth of perpetual war
I called my father, he said: “I know, I see it
I thought it made sense. I don’t anymore.”

[Chorus]
The mosque on my corner
The firetrucks everywhere
The anger
The mourners
No history
It’s dead in the air

The mosque on my corner
The firetrucks everywhere
The anger
The mourners
No history
It’s dead in the air

The future was an ad during football:
“We are supported by the will of the world.”
From the floor, I felt everything tilting
I watched my brother hold his 10-month-old girl
Fifteen years later & we’re still in the future
The blood & money didn’t fix anything
We’ve grown accustomed to the depths of the danger
This is the future:
Severe & always happening

[Chorus]
The mosque on my corner
The firetrucks everywhere
The anger
The mourners
No history
It’s dead in the air
No history
It’s dead in the air