Air thick with historynTourists and chicorynBuildings are gorgeousnShells of what used to benI'm looking for something beyond architecturenSomething bold and daringnThat's when I met hernnShe worships the maiden of the French quarternSame look on her face as JoannSix centuries before hernShe's a poet, a Mother, a fighter, a freaknA tacky renegade in Mardi Gras beadsnnAn everyday heronStumbling awaynEveryday heronMakes me saynnFierce-eyed beauty, you're so bravenWish you fortune, wish you gracennAn eight year old busker is tapping awaynHopes his feet will carry him to New York some daynHe's the youngest of six and his momma praysnThat he'll be her savior, her little lambnnAn everyday heronMaking a wagenEveryday heronMakes me saynnFresh-faced beauty, you're so bravenWish you fortune, wish you famennThree cheers for everyday heroesnHey, hey, heynThree cheers for everyday heroesnHey, hey, heynThree cheers for everyday heroesnHey, hey, heynnIn a city settled by artists and thievesnAnd others that fit in that categorynI can't say much about it, 'cause I didn't stay longnTook a New Orleans leftnBefore I knew it, the day was gonennFilled with everyday heroesnFilled with everyday heroesnHey, hey, hey