Like I said you know I’m almost dead, You know I’m almost gone. I’m gonna use these wings, to do that flying thing, Across the lawn.
To a better place, where the colour red, It doesn’t mean you’re dead. But rather not alone.
And these streets are real, And the people feel A sense of rationale.
The waves crash and everybody’s cash Is immaterial.
It’s so much more, Than just a made up book, It’s where we belong.
THE CITY OF ANGELS BY SUITE20SEVEN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 2018