[Nachtrag]: Kälte.


The girls on the streets all look sad in this gold encrested little town
Why is that?
Isn’t this the town of dreams?
yeah… But it comes with a price

It’s a town that never does anything and yet takes all the credit
A place that promises so much,
But never has a thing to say,
Or a care in the world

There is no memory here
No dream for itself but the dreams of others
And all over the world you talk of a place you’ve only seen in re-runs
Immorallized for it’s vice, and deified for it’s carnage

(There’s money in the air there)
(All you have to do is reach up and grab it)

In basements, garages, parking lots, empty lots, schoolyards, town cars, backrooms and more
Diamonds are fashioned from expectations and fortified on a steady diet,
of simple lives and red carpets
The ejaculating zeitgeist in nightvision
Culture is a punchline and emotion is blood in the water
The sharks here play games you can’t fathom

But you flock here anyway
On college money and credit cards
Spend a week bullshitting yourself that it was all true
All of it
Just to watch in horror as it all falls to pieces under the gravity of reality

The stary eyes fade as it dawns on you
Nothing is garanteed
You are a part of the great divide –
The choosen or the frozen

Now your mouth’s away without a net
Your college money’s a collage of debt
and your credit cards are all snapped in fucking half
time to wander a landscape bereft of mercy
This is now the backlot of your failed movie
A waking dream re-written without your permission
The real luster, the soft focus, the…
Soap opera vision is just the hindsight of a world who’s been lied to
Of sad surfs and untouchable lords

You took a chance didn’t you?
But chance didn’t have a par for you this time around, maybe next life
And you can’t even walk home

The girls on the streets all look sad in this cardboard cut-out little town
(huh) No wonder
That’s the only thing here that’s real
The gold is for fools
And paradise is lost but the hungry have never bothered with the cost
Day by day they fall away like rose pedals
Like – ink that won’t dry or fade
It just runs wild down cracks and crevices, grooves and folds
so I hope someone saves you before you get cold
I really do

Because the girls are all sad in this little black book
If you don’t beleive me, take a closer look
if you can

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