about the observations and thoughts i have had while living in LA |
DREAMERS LIKE US by Ashton Lynette Blanchard He came to LA to find a dream, to find an answer but his eyes are filled with question marks, like the way he holds out his soiled hand A question that I answer with a soiled dollar of my hard earned cash. He says god bless while movin to the rest of the endless cars, during rush hour in the city of angels The light turns green and I hear the honks of the stressed, the tired and the mean And I lean on the gas and pass on through this weird city What a pity, I should have saved my dollar for the asian man selling flowers I wonder what his dream is, I wonder if he misses home I smile at him, but I am just a passing face in this place we call LA Where foreingers like us come to stay Where dreamers like us come to see dreams die, in the eye of all the lost and lonely that hover by our cars I bet they all wanted to be moviestars But from an eagle eye we are all like specs of dirt, the bankers the bums the lawyers the scum the ugly the beautiful, the lovers, the loved They all look the same from the traffic hellicopter above But underneath the dirt, underneath the hurt, I know this town is worth something Behind all the beautiful sadness, the ugliness, the madness I see a glow and I know that hope still lives here I see it in the eyes of the little pig tail girl in the next car, shes making funny faces, guiding us home from the daily races through the streets and places, we call LA Where dreamers come to stay, only to sit in traffic, while we’re all on our way to find answers that may never become clear through all this smog |