Cheap theatre, cheap movie, that's how we begin, With patched-up dreams and secondhand skin, We take our seats in the flickering light, Hoping a broken story might still feel right.
The sound cracks, the script falls apart, But we stay, clapping with half-open hearts, The heroes stumble, the endings fray, Still we laugh and we cry and we stay.
No refunds, no rewinds, no better show, Just the slow unraveling we pretend we know, The ticket was cheap but the cost runs deep, We pay with the promises we couldn't keep.
Cheap theatre, cheap movie, our messy design, Crooked dreams projected on borrowed time, And maybe just maybe that's all we need, A cracked-up world where we still believe..
This isn’t about a movie, it’s about how we live. We sit in life’s cheap theatre, watching dreams on a flickering screen, hoping broken stories still make sense. The cracks in the sound, the failed lines, that’s us pretending it’s fine. It’s not the price we paid but what we lost to keep believing.
