Sometimes I can hardly tell if this is Bombay or New York. After 11 the lights shine just as blatantly as the dreams that believe there is a space here for them to take off.
Instead, instead of "yes" here you say "ha", instead of okay here you say "tikke". Otherwise similar. The best dancer at the bar always have poofed hair. The state-of-the-art highway cradles a timid sea, which for the city people is enough sea. Sometimes brokenhearted people feel more brokenhearted riding along this highway, after some time on the same highway they feel not so brokenhearted anymore. Bravery just means flipping your boss and dancing alone.
We all have trouble chatting the taxi driver, we all destroy our polished wallets. Euphoria means finding your glasses after a bar night, and greeting your neighbor who also arrived home late.
I won't apologize for coming home late unless you're the one behind the door.
Music on both lands refer to california as if it were a toasty home.
Speak hindi here with a Chinese accent, speak english there like "chutney" and "picante" and make them wonder, with inenuncible bewilderment, what it's like to be illiterate in both tongues. I won't be able to learn your unmapped territories between Bengali English Cantonese, but I feel I'm a key that can fit right into you, turn you and sedate you.
I learn about the city from hearsay, and I learn about you by collecting ashes hoping someday I can glue them into a pot. What's so wrong with that?
Instead, instead of "yes" here you say "ha", instead of okay here you say "tikke". Otherwise similar. The best dancer at the bar always have poofed hair. The state-of-the-art highway cradles a timid sea, which for the city people is enough sea. Sometimes brokenhearted people feel more brokenhearted riding along this highway, after some time on the same highway they feel not so brokenhearted anymore. Bravery just means flipping your boss and dancing alone.
We all have trouble chatting the taxi driver, we all destroy our polished wallets. Euphoria means finding your glasses after a bar night, and greeting your neighbor who also arrived home late.
I won't apologize for coming home late unless you're the one behind the door.
Music on both lands refer to california as if it were a toasty home.
Speak hindi here with a Chinese accent, speak english there like "chutney" and "picante" and make them wonder, with inenuncible bewilderment, what it's like to be illiterate in both tongues. I won't be able to learn your unmapped territories between Bengali English Cantonese, but I feel I'm a key that can fit right into you, turn you and sedate you.
I learn about the city from hearsay, and I learn about you by collecting ashes hoping someday I can glue them into a pot. What's so wrong with that?
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