LAST CITY LIGHTS

cinematic indie rock, alternative space rock, dark trip-hop, psych-soul

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They built a garden on the rooftop,
but the roots don’t touch the dirt,
every tree is just a symbol
for a thing we never worked.
I watch a stranger light a cigarette
with hands that shake like mine,
we trade a look that says
“you’re broke but still here, so am I.”

[Pre-Chorus]
And everybody keeps on moving
like the script is carved in stone,
but the cracks along the pavement
spell a word I don’t yet know.

[Chorus]
Under the last city lights
we’re just ghosts in rental bodies,
praying the grid never dies
while we scroll through dead hobbies.
If there’s a god in the wires
they’re as tired as we are tonight,
but I’ll keep walking these streets
’til I find what’s left of my life
in the last city lights.

[Verse 2]
News crawl says it’s “temporary,”
like a bruise you never see,
but the landlord raised the doomsday rent
on every breath I breathe.
I got a voicemail from the future
on a number that I burned,
it said, “You did your best with what you had,”
then the signal overturned.

There’s a choir in the subway,
all their coins in paper cups,
singing hymns about a heaven
that has yet to call them up.
I leave a crumpled bill like
it’s an answer they can spend,
they smile like, “kid, we’ve seen the end—
it just loops and starts again.”

[Pre-Chorus 2]
And everybody keeps on laughing
like the punchline will arrive,
but the joke is just existence
and the trick is stay alive.

[Bridge]
If all of this was rigged from birth,
if luck’s just loaded dice,
then every little act of love
is cheating paradise.
If we are just the accidents
of algorithms, faith, and fear,
then why does your hand in my hand
make the static disappear?

[Break – sparse, spoken over instrumental]
(Spoken, soft)
Somewhere, someone’s pulling plugs,
resetting all the wrongs we’ve done.
But it’s not here. It’s not tonight.
It’s just you and me and buzzing lights.

[Final Chorus – max catharsis, screamed ad-libs]
Under the last city lights
we’re rehearsing our goodbyes,
but I still feel something bright
in the corner of your eyes.
If there’s a god in the wires
they’ve forgotten how to speak,
so we’ll write our own commandments
on the backs of losing streaks.

Under the last city lights
if the whole world folds in two,
I will stand inside the blackout
just to disappear with you.

[Outro – nearly whispered]
Some nights the sky feels closer
than the ceiling in my room…
If this is all the luck we get,
I’m glad I spent mine next to you.

[End]

2975/7500

[Verse 1] Some nights the sky feels closer than the ceiling in my room, billboards breathing scripture over parking-lot tombs. The city wears its sirens like a necklace made of teeth, every car a little coffin with a playlist underneath. They built a garden on the rooftop, but the roots don’t touch the dirt, every tree is just a symbol for a thing we never worked. I watch a stranger light a cigarette with hands that shake like mine, we trade a look that says “you’re broke but still here, so am I.” [Pre-Chorus] And everybody keeps on moving like the script is carved in stone, but the cracks along the pavement spell a word I don’t yet know. [Chorus] Under the last city lights we’re just ghosts in rental bodies, praying the grid never dies while we scroll through dead hobbies. If there’s a god in the wires they’re as tired as we are tonight, but I’ll keep walking these streets ’til I find what’s left of my life in the last city lights. [Verse 2] News crawl says it’s “temporary,” like a bruise you never see, but the landlord raised the doomsday rent on every breath I breathe. I got a voicemail from the future on a number that I burned, it said, “You did your best with what you had,” then the signal overturned. There’s a choir in the subway, all their coins in paper cups, singing hymns about a heaven that has yet to call them up. I leave a crumpled bill like it’s an answer they can spend, they smile like, “kid, we’ve seen the end— it just loops and starts again.” [Pre-Chorus 2] And everybody keeps on laughing like the punchline will arrive, but the joke is just existence and the trick is stay alive. [Chorus] Under the last city lights we’re just ghosts in rental bodies, praying the grid never dies while we scroll through dead hobbies. If there’s a god in the wires they’re as tired as we are tonight, but I’ll keep walking these streets ’til I find what’s left of my life in the last city lights. [Bridge] If all of this was rigged from birth, if luck’s just loaded dice, then every little act of love is cheating paradise. If we are just the accidents of algorithms, faith, and fear, then why does your hand in my hand make the static disappear? [Break – sparse, spoken over instrumental] (Spoken, soft) Somewhere, someone’s pulling plugs, resetting all the wrongs we’ve done. But it’s not here. It’s not tonight. It’s just you and me and buzzing lights. [Final Chorus – max catharsis, screamed ad-libs] Under the last city lights we’re rehearsing our goodbyes, but I still feel something bright in the corner of your eyes. If there’s a god in the wires they’ve forgotten how to speak, so we’ll write our own commandments on the backs of losing streaks. Under the last city lights if the whole world folds in two, I will stand inside the blackout just to disappear with you. [Outro – nearly whispered] Some nights the sky feels closer than the ceiling in my room… If this is all the luck we get, I’m glad I spent mine next to you. [End]

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