Three speakers in a spoken-word piece weave between the glitter of city lights and drugs against one person's depression and search for meaning. The tension pulls between fleeting highs and wanting to leave something that lasts, between the promise of neon nights and the weight of hopelessness.
Bright lights, high rise, new drugs, new life, new highs. Blue moon on skies, bright lights, high rise, new drugs, new life, new highs.
High on the high rise, high on the high rise. I might just fly to the skyline. Don't care if I fall in a die light. My soul is timeless, my body is finite. Tonight might be my last forever, but I'll make sure that lasts forever. I pray that my failures don't make you give up on me. Don't give up on me. I hope this makes up for all of my setbacks and suffering. I've been suffering. Depression got me down. I don't know if I'll ever get out. I've been hoping that this all works out. I don't really care about no one, no how. I wanna be alright, but I don't know how. I don't know how. I just want them to remember me, so I put my life in the melodies. I put all my songs in their memories. Even if they wasn't friends with me, I want my soul keep the rest of me. I'm trying to make friends with my destiny. I'm high on the high rise, watching the time fly, watching the world and watching me pass by.
Bright skies, bright lights, high rise. New drugs, new lies.
I am not here for apologies. Climbed to the top of the high-rise, falling right down to the streetlights. And I hope, and I hope I see you, I see you again. Again.
