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These people are made of cardboard, flat and surreal.
They are worn-down cutouts of what they used to be.
But it isn’t their fault, the constant drumming of Suburban heat
And the screaming children every day can do this to you.
This town has got to be the sickest dream I’ve ever had
With every day I count down, I feel another year older
The hours tick by in the pace of a bored sigh.
One day I’ll leave for something new.
Something bright and full of life even in the dark.
I’ll find someone willing to be an audience to my theatrics.
And who will love me for what I take as much as give, and for what I’m not
As much as what I am.
When I’m done with you and you and you, I’ll be on my way.
I’ll stroll with nothing but my paper and pen towards the city lights.
With every step, the next more illuminated than the last, the dark slowly receding
I’ll come closer to what I’ve only dreamed of.
When I get there, I’ll feel it before I see it.
The air will buzz with my calling, my destiny will be found lodged
In the sidewalk cracks and the music will sing my name.
The people will welcome my spirit; they’ll see I’m one of them.
They’ll know the journey I’ve just embarked upon because they themselves
Were on it once too.
They understand I’ve finally found everything I’ve been searching for.
And this is where I will stay; in this new town.