Campfire at the Chelsea

There is a fireplace
Full of holes, full of life
Full of chaos, it has a human face
It's full of our reflection

What kind of fire place has no damn fire?
This kind, with the shitty marble mantle
Where children gather and listen
To a poorly strummed guitar

We're livin' it up in the hotel lobby
The outcast performers
And miscast spectators
In the mystical blackness

You'd call this antique cast
A group of "characters" today
One lit another's cigarette
When the city went black

Anyplace is your home
With solid built walls
When you can't take cover in appliances
You take cover in love and art

"Mythology wont tie
Your shoelaces, son"
The hotel manager
Is handing out advice to foreigners

Go buy some more matches
The bodega guy's even givin' em away
And one lit another's cigarette
When the city went black

Anyplace is your home
With solid built walls
When you cant' take cover in fancy appliances
You make do - who needs 'em

In the apocalypse we listen
To that poorly strummed guitar
We are going nowhere
Cause it's very dark out.

We don't all know each other
Nor how this darkness will end
And we feel safe
In the blackout of '77