every morning the flower opens without fanfare or notice
as the sun rises the city sleeps, leaving me alone with the view
the small things we add may seem insignificant but we know they’re not
how others see us is not as important as how we see ourselves
what we leave behind tells the story of how we choose to live our lives
just because we’re warned that doesn’t mean we won’t make a bad decision
if we could predict the future, there’s still a chance that we’d be surprised
we quietly show our tribalism by the icons we select
the truth doesn’t hurt unless you’ve been relying on dishonesty
as we’re worn by time having lost the spring of youth we still try our best
uptown jack 