There was a strong difference between high and lows.
Looking up and you could only find an open blue sky supported by rooftops. Optimism was in the air.
Looking down and you could only see rubble. Graffiti over graffiti. Shadows that turn into dirt. A dreamed commerce paradise that turned into oblivion. A space awaiting resurrection.
Julian showed up in the middle of the afternoon, set himself on our pop-up stage and brought those universes together with “Streetlights”
I’ve got my hands in my pockets as I walk down the street, and I know I need food but I’ll probably get drinks. So I think to myself boy what does this mean? Am I really this lonely? I should probably get clean.
The streetlights flicker and fade. Cause its warm in the moonlight but its cold in my bed. And the neon signs call my name. If the problems the answer then its always a race in my head.
I’ve been working again. But it seems I made a mess. That I tried to clean wearing my sunday best. Its a life on repeat. Its an innocent stare. We do it over and over and over again.
Cause I’m too damn tired to say all these things on my mind they just won’t go away. So I’m praying that I make it back to a simpler self and try not to overreact.
I’ve got my hands in my pockets as I walk down the street. I should probably start living and wake up from this dream.
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