Believe me when I say that it doesn’t mean anything.
It’s just neon lights and polka dotted women
Someone is lost, someone is just a lost soul driven
It doesn’t have to be the other way around
It’s just confined spaces that placates the crowd
What if there was wine and cheese like never
Or that meeting someone on a shiny floor is twice as better
If only there were questions that fit the right answers
We might not feel pain to even satisfy these cheek painters.
Of bald men and shiny toasters behind the bench
Our needs depend on everything that bounces light in the end.