The City of Our Lady

On a city train heading down the line

The faces of the strangers show the passing of the time

History is hanging as a picture in a frame

Everywhere we go we are the child of where we came

Itty bitty little baby cry with all your might

Darkened by the daytime in a city full of lights

Blind to insurrection but in battle all the same

Everywhere we go we are the child of where we came

Everywhere we go we are the child of where we came

The city of our lady, queen of all the angels

Lingers in the ringing of the iron mission bells

Changing all the faces, saving all the names

Everywhere we go we are the child of where we came

Everywhere we go we are the child of where we came

Everywhere we go we are the child of where we came