The Blue Cardigan in the Concrete Jungle
The city always smells like exhaust and old rain, a gray haze
Alleyway Friend
The City Breathes When We Do
I used to think Tokyo was just a machine that ate people
Cherry Blossoms on Concrete Skin
I wore the red polka-dot skirt today because it’s loud enough
The Daisy in the Concrete Crack
I used to think this city only spoke in gray—the color
The Silver Lining in the Concrete Jungle
I spent three hours on that makeup and four more fighting with
The Blue Current Between Us
I used to think my life was just another grey street in
Neon Rain and the Taste of Salt
I’ve spent three years in this city feeling like a ghost
The Taste of Rain on Asphalt
My life used to feel like those humid Tuesday nights in the
Neon Veins and Coffee Stains
The neon signs of Shinjuku always felt like they were shouting at
Vanilla Dreams in the Concrete Jungle
The city doesn't care if you’re tired. It just
Silver Boots on Wet Asphalt
The stadium lights are blinding, a million volts of artificial gold that
Neon Lights and Cold Beer on 4th Street
The humidity in this city always feels like a damp blanket you
