This city don’t wait for anyone. But I still stopped when I saw them. A girl humming through a cracked headphone, A guy writing poems in the back of his phone. They didn’t ask for much, Just some space to feel without being watched. One of them told me he sleeps on the train, 'Cause silence in a room drives him halfway insane. They all had their reasons, their ways of surviving, And even when broken, they just kept driving. Nobody talked big, nobody played cool — But they still looked up like the sky meant something. Like maybe, if they could keep breathing through the mess, They’d get close enough to touch that quiet dream. The one nobody talks about, but we all carry. The one that’s far, and soft, and still feels true. We never said it out loud... But we were all just trying to get to the moon. I used to keep my head down walking, Pretend I liked the noise just to not feel alone. Started counting strangers like street signs. Didn’t think anyone out here was real anymore. But then I met this girl — Had duct tape on her jacket and paint on her hands. Said she didn’t believe in "happy endings" But she kept drawing them anyway. And this kid I ran into near 6th and Row, Had bruises on his arms he didn’t bother to hide. He told me music was the only thing That didn’t ask him to be someone else. We talked for like… five minutes. But he stayed with me longer than people I’ve known for years. That’s the thing — The real ones don’t shine. They sit next to you in silence And somehow, that’s louder than anything else. I tried to leave it all behind. Climbed rooftops, chased highs that turned out hollow. Told myself if I reached far enough, Maybe I’d find peace on the other side of this place. I thought maybe the moon held something better. Something softer. But no one tells you That sometimes, even the sky won’t catch you. And I fell — not fast, just slowly enough To remember every face I saw on the way up. They’re not gone. They’re still here, somewhere. Breathing, breaking, building. And I carry all of it. Like it’s the only thing that still makes sense. This city don’t wait for anyone. But I still stopped when I saw them. A girl humming through a cracked headphone, A guy writing poems in the back of his phone. They didn’t ask for much, Just some space to feel without being watched. One of them told me he sleeps on the train, 'Cause silence in a room drives him halfway insane. They all had their reasons, their ways of surviving, And even when broken, they just kept driving. Nobody talked big, nobody played cool — But they still looked up like the sky meant something. Like maybe, if they could keep breathing through the mess, They’d get close enough to touch that quiet dream. The one nobody talks about, but we all carry. The one that’s far, and soft, and still feels true. We never said it out loud... But we were all just trying to get to the moon. (They’d get close enough to touch that quiet dream. The one nobody talks about, but we all carry. The one that’s far, and soft, and still feels true. We never said it out loud... But we were all just trying to get to the moon.)
