You're Not Carving Deep Enough

This City is lost as I am.
Standing still on an unfriendly sidewalk, staring at the flickering streetlights.
Gently pressing my palm against the dead-cold iron of the pole.

The lights suddenly shut and again I'm left alone with my thoughts.
Navigating senseless on a stream of a grey density, hiding in the confinement of a filthy back alley.

I think I had sex here once but that's not the point.
The molecules surrounding me are definetly moving at a faster pace than mine.
(I guess that's why my vision is so blurry.)

Dry cold air fills my lungs, leaving an aftertaste of dust in my mouth.
I washed it clean with several shots of vodka.
And why am I coughing this much?
I've never smoked, if I had known (maybe) I would have started.
To quit, would've been a goal to reach in my life.

There goes passion, out a broken window... passing by great buildings, giants of man-made desires, that are spreading their wings of darkness upon the city for miles.
I'm out of breath and I can't do a thing about it...

(No One will hear me scream.)