An exceptionally common year,
not yet a billion people waking to day
Our memories made a home here.
893,602 of us not free, still of fear.
There were 63 years to neat say
An exceptionally common year.
And not yet set on fire or tears
white houses, not yet prisms arrayed.
Our memories make a home here.
They say life is sweeter now, and here,
Not quite electric, not quite any way
An exceptionally common year.
Stenciling skin records not yet clear
Against a far off and dreaded doomsday
Our memories make a home here.
This century comes, a profiteer
with symphonies building its vertebrae
An exceptionally common year,
Our memories make a home here.
