Here's where the rioters raged over baseball and race And here's where the factories were razed and no memory remains But things are working out well Don't believe what you see on the streets The threadbare armies of men broken and dead on their feet Here's where the wrecking crew tore out the heart of the ward No street signs remind you that a neighborhood died here before But things are working out well Don't believe what you see on the streets No threadbare armies of men broken and dead on their feet No more bending your back to the weight of the world No more sorrows, no setbacks, and no more diving for pearls in the ditches and drains All our history's remade and no memory remains of us now