i sat amongst a parking lot of wayward people
dreadlocks & hair dye
& anything else to look alive.
bright colours - making deals;
shake on it and pay later is the mantra of the night
i want my hands over my ears,
i do not belong here-- my life isnt as vivid or as wild
i am not falling off the empire state
no. i am not at that stage
did the ocean whisper its love to you?
is that why you are what you do?

the lights are brighter for this generation
a world of people raised, artificial and capitalistic
shouting their poetry at the stars across
long forgotten paths

they call you reckless. i call you the only friends i ever had
but neither of us know you like you do.
ive never breathed a sigh of relief like you have &
my eyes dont close like yours do --

how can anybody talk when they dont walk in your shoes?