I'm no trailer park trash,
you may live
forty three stories more than me..
But I'll reach higher than you any day of the week.
I only have to take one step,
to tell what is
curb crawling around me.
Trying to sell me false hopes,
selling me bath salt dreams.
But there more like bubble bath,
popping before I even enjoyed it.
Your hopes and dreams are sky high,
illusions of
your first steps.
A worthless dime falling from a great height.
No one even heard you
plunge...
Cos there only interested what's
happening on the street..
Your just a stain that no one really looked at,
cares about.
As there's plenty more chalk outlines
that children hopscotch over..
Can you count to ten..
Then there's another gunshot..
like a storm, they hitting in the distance..
Just another cold breath that falls from ground zero...
burn stains on the
side-lines
that play pause.
No breath... no care.
I'm here at ground zero,
your up there in your fairy-tale
hanging from your chandelier,
But I'm swinging lower but still breathing.
