Yo, we walk through concrete veins, cracks in the pavement scream,
A city of fractured dreams, but love’s the thread that weaves the seams.
They say we’re ghosts in the machine, but I see sparks in the static—
Love’s a Molotov of the heart, sparkin’ flames in the dark.
We the roses growin’ through the cracks in the concrete veins,
Thorns on our fists, but the bloom’s where the pain meets the rain.
Ain’t no fairy tales here, just fists clutchin’ hope,
Turnin’ wounds into ink, rewrite the script where the broken folks cope.
Love’s a Molotov of the heart, sparkin’ flames in the dark,
A revolution in the veins, tearin’ down the chains we mark.
We the alchemy in the grit, turnin’ lead to gold,
A symphony of the lost, singin’ stories yet untold.
They built gilded cages, called it “progress,” called it “wealth,”
But we’re the echoes of the unheard, the breath in the wealth’s stealth.
Love’s a crowbar in the system, pryin’ doors off the hinges,
Ain’t no “us vs. them”—we the bridge where the broken begins.
We kiss the scars of the streets, turn trauma to art,
Every “I see you” is a spark, lightin’ fires in the dark.
No capes, just calloused hands, rebuildin’ what’s been shattered,
Love’s the glue in the fractures, the “we” that matters.
Yeah, we’ve been drowned in the noise, but love’s the frequency,
A lighthouse in the storm, where the lost find their symmetry.
Phoenix in the ashes, rise with the smoke,
Love’s the code in the chaos, the pulse in the broke.
So when they ask, “What’s love got to do with the fight?”
Tell ’em, “Everything”—it’s the pulse in the night.
We the alchemy in the grit, turnin’ lead to gold,
A symphony of the lost, singin’ stories yet untold.
