Song parody of
Firefly
by Grace Corsi
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I've been trying to get some rest
But the sounds of the city make it hard at best
The birds keep chirping in the middle of the night
And the rush of the freeway is my lullaby
I've been searching through the lonely dark
But the stars disappeared over Highland Park
And I'm left roaming with a broken spark,
The lamplight fading from my open heart
I feel like a firefly
Drowned out by the streetlights
In the night smog
And I am tired of burning bright
While the city's bleeding light
Through the night smog
Through the night smog
I've been running out of kerosene
The city took what's left of me
But I'd rather go on hungering
Than yield to the monster that swallowed me
I feel like a firefly
Drowned out by the streetlights
In the night smog
And I am tired of burning bright
While the city's bleeding light
Through the night smog
Through the night smog
I walk along the sidewalk
Taking stock of all the weeds
Of every stretch of green that's left
Between the cracks and seams
Of the grey constructed canyons
And the metal river streets
The ore torn from the mountains
And the graveyards made of trees
I've been trying to get some rest
But the sounds of the city make it hard at best
The birds keep chirping in the middle of the night
And the rush of the freeway is my lullaby
I've been searching through the lonely dark
But the stars disappeared over Highland Park
And I'm left roaming with a broken spark,
The lamplight fading from my open heart
I feel like a firefly
Drowned out by the streetlights
In the night smog
And I am tired of burning bright
While the city's bleeding light
Through the night smog
Through the night smog
I've been running out of kerosene
The city took what's left of me
But I'd rather go on hungering
Than yield to the monster that swallowed me
I feel like a firefly
Drowned out by the streetlights
In the night smog
And I am tired of burning bright
While the city's bleeding light
Through the night smog
Through the night smog
I walk along the sidewalk
Taking stock of all the weeds
Of every stretch of green that's left
Between the cracks and seams
Of the grey constructed canyons
And the metal river streets
The ore torn from the mountains
And the graveyards made of trees
