This bus ride downtown is perfectly paired with that sullen Paul Simon song. Static streets: the veins of that frozen lake. Cleveland winters are the greyest shade of bleak. Late night jokes and jabs from 1980's silver screens have accumulated and manifested as dark clouds hanging over this receding skyline. Chips rain down on the shoulders of bitter inhabitants - an ever-present reminder that opportunity lies elsewhere. We live in the shadow of the dead. What makes a man but where he's from? We sing a belated eulogy