Paper and rain

I sit where the neon hums too loud, lines and colors spill onto the ground. A face takes shape in charcoal dust, but they never stay, they never trust. And the rain comes down, washes me clean, but my hands still stain with what I’ve seen. Paper dreams, a silent show, the city walks, but it doesn’t know. Coins drop like echoes in a well, names are stories I’ll never tell. I draw the ones who never stay, they fade like whispers in the gray. And the rain comes down, washes me clean, but my hands still stain with what I’ve seen. Paper dreams, a silent show, the city walks, but it doesn’t know. Maybe I was someone once, maybe I had a name. But ink and time erased the past, and now I’m just the same… As the rain comes down, soft and slow, paper fades… but I still go.