Text Version:
Imagine a place where the sky is framed by towering skyscrapers,
reaching up like the stars we see on stages.
The streets move like rivers, never still, a constant rush of people.
The lights never go out here—
they burn through the night, neon signs flickering like electric stars.
Sidewalks glisten and sparkle after it rains, and
yellow cabs weave through traffic.
There’s a rhythm to it all, a beat you can’t ignore,
each block has its own soul, from the brownstones of Brooklyn,
where the trees line the streets, to the glass towers of midtown,
and the bustling crowds of Broadway.
I want to pack my bags, say goodbye to the town I call home.
I’ll move to the city where the lights never go out,
where I can lose myself in the noise, in the rush.
And as I sit at Central Park, I’ll admire the city that calls my name,
ever since I first learned how to dream.
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