Optimism - Jarrod Gorbel

You, you don’t belong

In this prison-like hospital

But I feel so responsible

And I know you feel ashamed

Just show me what you started with, that blade

Brought you some clean clothes

A calling card for the payphone

Magazines, headphones, CDs

To grant you a distraction

Cause I know there’s no one here to take you home

You’ll be alright

My sound advice

Just hope you know

We are done

It’s time to move on

Losing your voice in the crowded streets

Pulsing crunch of machinery

Oh so harsh frequency

In the city that we love

We love, we love, we love, love

Paint chipped and scraped

Evidence of forced entry

Red with disgust, violated

Remind me why I love

Living in this city I call home

Passenger’s side, left open wide

Glass scattered about

Broken along with my optimism

Losing your voice in the crowded streets

Pulsing crunch of machinery

The oh so harsh frequency

In the city that we love

We love, we love, we love, love

None of your schemes work on me

Smoke signals are jokes to see

The smell sticks to your clothes

It’s on everything I own

Like the rain that seeps through the cracks in my rubber soul