At eleven years old I thought it would be a good idea
To go light up
Behind a park bench
With some old friends.
From that moment on,
I saw black and white.
I saw wrong and right.
I saw day and night.
From that moment on I went through my life
Doing whatever I liked,
Because I owned the night.
I was the Night.
All around me, I saw a bunch of golden people.
Golden people with golden lives.
Golden men with golden wives
Holding onto the end of their golden ropes,
With their golden eyes waiting
With an empty hope
For the road to rise up and meet them
But it never will.
Yes, I am broken.
I am dirt compared to those tokens.
But one thing I vow to never be
Is a dirt man spray painted with gold
Just like everyone around me.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
At eleven years old I thought it would be a good idea
To go light up
Behind a park bench
With some old friends.
From that moment on,
I saw black and white.
I saw wrong and right.
I saw day and night.
From that moment on I went through my life
Doing whatever I liked,
Because I owned the night.
I was the Night.
All around me, I saw a bunch of golden people.
Golden people with golden lives.
Golden men with golden wives
Holding onto the end of their golden ropes,
With their golden eyes waiting
With an empty hope
For the road to rise up and meet them
But it never will.
Yes, I am broken.
I am dirt compared to those tokens.
But one thing I vow to never be
Is a dirt man spray painted with gold
Just like everyone around me.
