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