Here's where the rioters raged over baseball and race

And here's where the factories were razed and no memory remains

But things are working out well

Don't believe what you see on the streets

The threadbare armies of men broken and dead on their feet

Here's where the wrecking crew tore out the heart of the ward

No street signs remind you that a neighborhood died here before

But things are working out well

Don't believe what you see on the streets

No threadbare armies of men broken and dead on their feet

No more bending your back to the weight of the world

No more sorrows, no setbacks, and no more diving for pearls in the ditches and drains

All our history's remade and no memory remains of us now