Save me, oh, save me, I’m all out of dreams,
Walking through Heaven’s zone on 25th Street.
Cars are the fashion parading under neon lights;
Faces through tinted glass tell their stories of life.
You stare, you frown and swear, and I smile back at you.
Billions of stars will fall before the night is through.
South of Main and Hollywood is 25th Street.
Liquid gold in glasses is always in our reach;
You can soar for days and days because the magic is good.
Feel the fire in our veins, we’re the joke of the neighborhood.
I search to find a place to bury my head
Deep within my thoughts on the night edge.
Lovers sending messages through crystal eyes,
Passing the sights unknown we want to ask.
Give me another shot of that whiskey, man,
Fill up my dreamer’s glass with my only friend.
South of Main and Hollywood is 25th Street.
Liquid gold in glasses is always in our reach.
You can soar for days because the magic is good.
Feel the fire in our veins; we’re the joke of the neighborhood.
Om författaren
Michael Campbell Lives in Ecuador in an indigenous Indian communities preparing for his next book of live and experiences .
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