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Bad Neighborhood

Sleep is a rare commodity here
We talk about it every night - our bitter tongues drunk on burnt coffee

In a city where greetings come in the form of slanted glares and hushed whispers,
a bump in the night is never just a restless house
We stalk dim streets - our frantic eyes chasing silent shadows

Sirens aren't for broken bones here
We hang outside windows - our lungs breathe burnt oil

In a city where ambitions are dreams, evenings end with a bright light
We hit our heads against the pillow - our throats swell with silent screams

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Bad Neighborhood