Stumbling over cracks in the pavement, we’ll make our way down the city streets so far from the 24 hour Wal-Marts and dirty BP gas stations we call home. A taste of life in the city of spinning lights teases us for the few nights we can afford. This is the kind of city you can become an inflated picture of yourself and trick yourself that they’re your truest colours for the months you spend on grey cream carpets.
If this is the city money can buy a space in, then maybe those plastic cards and paper bills can buy the fleeting thought they call happiness. It’s too easy to sell hope to the starry-eyed kids scared of becoming numb, so we’ll build our lives in little rooms shared by the similar. Peeling wallpaper’s a small price to pay for spinning lights and amplified words rushing through our body’s. We’ll convince ourselves that desperation is the only way to live and later say those were the best years of our lives as we sit in our oversized recliners with classy dreams in our cups.