Sirens Don't Sing for The Dead

Rain hits the pavement like a ticking clock Neon bleeding down the walls like bruises The night holds its breath—waiting to lie again He dropped fast—faster than the sirens could wake Body folding into shadow like it belonged there His dreams spilled out across the cracked cement And the city drank them without a word He told me once he’d climb out of this place Past the corners where boys trade fear for armor But hope burns quick when the darkness taxes you And everyone here pays in blood I shouted for help but the sky didn’t answer Just flickered with guilt behind a veil of smoke This street knows every ghost by name And counts them like debts it will never repay Sirens don’t sing for the dead They only circle like vultures dressed in blue Their wailing never lifts the fallen Just warns the rest what not to do Sirens don’t sing for the dead They echo off the bricks then fade to black No salvation in those flashing halos Just another body they won’t bring back He laughed like every joke came with a wound A smile sharpened from too many goodbyes Said the world would hear him someday But the streets hear first—and swallow loud I held him as the warmth slipped out His breath shaking like torn paper in the wind Above us, the city towered indifferent Like a giant built of dead men’s dreams This block remembers what we try to forget Footsteps carved in dust, name etched in rain We walk through ghosts pretending they aren’t ours Pretending we aren’t next [Chorus, Full band, emotional rasp-breaking belts] Sirens don’t sing for the dead They scream for the ones still running A warning painted in red and blue A lullaby for no one Sirens don’t sing for the dead They shout at the night to stand aside But the night just swallows, swallows whole Everything we couldn’t hide Streetlamps flicker—once, twice Like they almost bowed their heads But maybe it was just the power dying Or the world forgetting him Before the blood even dried