Intercom/Aftercalm

We all met at the Hot Bird
We gentrified Brooklyn together
I tried to get him to apologize, I wasn't gonna be the one...
Instead he became less and less interesting
His form an apology,
And how I nearly believed him, before it became true
There are liars, and storytellers, and a bonfire of the vanities (the man I love, I love him easy, his name comes easy, his main alias is me, scanning the celebration looking for my reason to be where he isn't, walking on the wings of the moment now
All clichés lead to California
Belief that the machine, in a swarm, seems human, and humming a proof tune
Disenchantment/disenchantment at the Hot Bird, Hot Bird, Hot Bird, we cheered and Nearly God was closer, so far, from what I heard