Whisper on the asphalt, lights that no longer shine the same My shadow drags itself down the avenue, searching for an end I am a contralto voice, raspy with rain and ash I deny the street that promises and then betrays my life Tired streetlights flicker stories I don't want to hear The city breathes deeply in a sigh of saltpeter and sea salt It hurts to look back and understand there's no place left Among the memories that squeeze me like a whirlwind I want to flee, but the ground draws me to its gray dwelling Nostalgia traps me with cold, absolute fists If I close my eyes, the exit seems like a mirage I remain in this neon tunnel, searching for such a minimal rebirth The names on the walls say that everything was a broken promise Wet walls hold laments that no one speaks of My voice breaks, graphite that doesn't know where the end is Among passing cars, I leave a desire to escape the threshold Each step It weighs heavy, every street whispers goodbye And my chest throbs like a siren without direction I want to flee, but the ground draws me into its gray chamber Nostalgia grips me with cold, absolute fists If I close my eyes, the exit seems like a mirage I remain in this neon tunnel, searching for such a minimal rebirth Between smoke and rain, my voice breaks and becomes a dying flame If I look to the left, the shadow smiles and invites me to nothingness I want to flee, but the ground draws me into its gray chamber Nostalgia grips me with cold, absolute fists If I close my eyes, the exit seems like a mirage I remain in this neon tunnel, searching for such a minimal rebirth And at the end of the tunnel, a brief breath, almost a whisper The city accepts me in its gray, and I accept being its murmur
