The city's grey and full of shit, nLonely cash and nothingness. nYou can't tell the seasons change nTill someone dies and you know its winter. nSome people have all the money. nSome people have all the guns. nSome people have all the empty cans. nsome people have all the fun. nnnAnd every town comes to the ground some day nFrom fires, riots, tsunamis, or earthquakes. nAnd you can't make a salad out of those credit cards nor a stirfry from a check. nnAnd history will be a mystery till someone nDives into the wreck and tells their truth. nnAnd you're trying to find yourself in a world of hungry ghosts, nTraffic lights, surveillance cameras, unreliable hosts. nFeeding off the trash of centuries of excess, nAnd you'll never find it unless nnYou're crushed under ten tons of your dissatisfaction nAnd you remind yourself that change is the product of your own action. nNot something you can get at a store, shit, you can't even steal it. nAnd the more callouses on your hands the better you can feel it. nAin't that strange? nnThat city is a nightmare you're trying to wake up from nNothing matters there, you can fuck yourself up proper like you've done nAnd you'll keep falling on the pavement, you're never gonna get out nUntil you get up off the pavement and get out. nnAnd everyone falls to the ground someday nFrom gravity or just needing a new place to stay, nAnd you can't bomb your blues away nYou can't smoke out the demons squatting your head nYou can't make a home out of words you haven't even said nSo tell me something new. n