Teenage Riot
Turn off lights tonight.
I wanna forget about today until tommorrow.
" I am the earth, I am the sun" the smiths rule the sounds at time.
Kyra's POV
I dont feel free tonight. I woke up alone, as always. My room was dark, my things were in the same place. My notebook, my pen, the light came down the same way. Nothing ever changes, the light comes same way and reflect the same shadow. Walking through I don't really need to move, this place moves me slowly in the same old beat. I don't really need to move. I found myself staring at the white point of the window, where you see the city lights invading the kingdom. The lights always slip in my nightmares. Daydream nightmares. Funny ain't it?
Well, in here it ain't so funny. To live I have to dream, to dream I have to live. This life has nothing, but wishes. Everything here is hope. Nothing is concrete. Its all so lame.... There are just wandering wishes lost in here. Lost to never be found again, who cares? who should?
I take off my clothes letting them fall apart. Other thing that always happens. Why can't gravity freeze for a second? Why can't it go faster?
I open the curtains. I like the way they flow, in slow erratic movements, so graceful, so fine. They remind me of ballerine. So perfect and yet so fragile. Depending from the catarsis of the claping hands. So dependant on the sweetness of their winter roses. YES. Thats it ballerines are like winter roses, growing up on the pale sky. Loosing petal to the hawling winds. Colapsing in the last chord of the waltz. Without notes without faces, without nightmares?
I wish, I was a ballerine and I would fly among the earth. White roses would arrive into my arms. On a dark room, just like this one. If I would be a ballerine I would escape the shadows haunting me, I'd own the air, performing a sweet dance that would fall into the light and make me a ray out of it. If I was a ballerine I would see beauty on this room. I would create a drama out a smile. I would dance with the lights of the city. I would shine and become the ray of light, I would become singing stars of the night.
This city...
New york really has it all.
And now I look at the city...
This city needs no words to be described. It has its own light. New York is a black jewel. Always shining in the darkness of the night. Liz says, New York needs nothing, exept people, to keep moving it.
Maybe she is right. Paris is the city of the lights, but Paris is so sublime, beauty in its purest state. New York is movement, its music. New York tells storys about crimes, about violence, about desperation, about sex, about trips, about anxiety, life free and wild. Crimes with thousand authors and no victims, but the author himself. New York speaks on its own, and thats why I will let this words vanish into the night. There is no need of words tonight. Hopefully I'll fade into the night myself, and I will dissapear in the sound of freedom.
I wanna forget today until tommorrow.
So I open the drawer and reach for that plastic bag. Coke. Cocain See the powder on my hands, See the power in my hands. I place it on my hand and blow it away. Like holidays on funerals. Stars sparkling in the sky. Blowing through the wind. I breath the air of sickness.
I've always have this air is sick, I am sick.
Lets pull cosmos up my nose. Singing stars of the night. Singing stars of the night.
Make me the night.
The smiths fade on a mixture of sounds and sensations, as I grab my keys and close the door.
"There is a club you can go
and find someone to really love you
so you go
and you stand on your own
and you leave on your own
and you go home and cry
and you wanna die"
" I am the earth, I am the sun" the smiths rule the sounds at time.
Kyra's POV
I dont feel free tonight. I woke up alone, as always. My room was dark, my things were in the same place. My notebook, my pen, the light came down the same way. Nothing ever changes, the light comes same way and reflect the same shadow. Walking through I don't really need to move, this place moves me slowly in the same old beat. I don't really need to move. I found myself staring at the white point of the window, where you see the city lights invading the kingdom. The lights always slip in my nightmares. Daydream nightmares. Funny ain't it?
Well, in here it ain't so funny. To live I have to dream, to dream I have to live. This life has nothing, but wishes. Everything here is hope. Nothing is concrete. Its all so lame.... There are just wandering wishes lost in here. Lost to never be found again, who cares? who should?
I take off my clothes letting them fall apart. Other thing that always happens. Why can't gravity freeze for a second? Why can't it go faster?
I open the curtains. I like the way they flow, in slow erratic movements, so graceful, so fine. They remind me of ballerine. So perfect and yet so fragile. Depending from the catarsis of the claping hands. So dependant on the sweetness of their winter roses. YES. Thats it ballerines are like winter roses, growing up on the pale sky. Loosing petal to the hawling winds. Colapsing in the last chord of the waltz. Without notes without faces, without nightmares?
I wish, I was a ballerine and I would fly among the earth. White roses would arrive into my arms. On a dark room, just like this one. If I would be a ballerine I would escape the shadows haunting me, I'd own the air, performing a sweet dance that would fall into the light and make me a ray out of it. If I was a ballerine I would see beauty on this room. I would create a drama out a smile. I would dance with the lights of the city. I would shine and become the ray of light, I would become singing stars of the night.
This city...
New york really has it all.
And now I look at the city...
This city needs no words to be described. It has its own light. New York is a black jewel. Always shining in the darkness of the night. Liz says, New York needs nothing, exept people, to keep moving it.
Maybe she is right. Paris is the city of the lights, but Paris is so sublime, beauty in its purest state. New York is movement, its music. New York tells storys about crimes, about violence, about desperation, about sex, about trips, about anxiety, life free and wild. Crimes with thousand authors and no victims, but the author himself. New York speaks on its own, and thats why I will let this words vanish into the night. There is no need of words tonight. Hopefully I'll fade into the night myself, and I will dissapear in the sound of freedom.
I wanna forget today until tommorrow.
So I open the drawer and reach for that plastic bag. Coke. Cocain See the powder on my hands, See the power in my hands. I place it on my hand and blow it away. Like holidays on funerals. Stars sparkling in the sky. Blowing through the wind. I breath the air of sickness.
I've always have this air is sick, I am sick.
Lets pull cosmos up my nose. Singing stars of the night. Singing stars of the night.
Make me the night.
The smiths fade on a mixture of sounds and sensations, as I grab my keys and close the door.
"There is a club you can go
and find someone to really love you
so you go
and you stand on your own
and you leave on your own
and you go home and cry
and you wanna die"