I live in a city of angels. Not L.A. Fuck you for thinking that.
New York City. A real city with real Angels.
You fucking idiots. You have no idea how many Saints are born a day here.
Not the plastic window display pieces of yesterdays garbage like in Calioformya.
Everyone scrambles around like theyre so god damn busy, but nobodys got anywhere to go. I love it. I live it. I got no-place to go too. No where but down in the shit. Drunk, tired, homeless, fucked up, and done.
I love it. live it.
The Angels here are like none other. The best saviors in the fucking world.
Without those few this city would crumble.
The mortar between the bricks, holding seven levels of city together for a bunch of un-worthy saps. God bless them.
I love it. live it.
"Give us your bullshit and we'll take care of them."
says: the big green statue that's never been robbed or shit on...
Every second of every day I know someone just like me cries themselves to sleep. Someone finds their head in the oven deciding death someone decides the next day they will die.
What is this MONSTER?
What is this BLESSING?
My god, my city, I will abide.
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