Verse 1
Darling, the city’s a glittering tease,
A perpetual preview, where no one says please.
I arrived with a script and a head filled by one dream,
Now I’m scripting my life on a broken phone screen.
Auditions at ten, rejections by noon,
My talent’s divine, but my rent is due soon.
I smile through the small talk at openings grand,
While wondering why nobody touches my hand.
Pre-Chorus
The subways are crowded, yet somehow I’m alone,
Eight million stories, but mine seems to have flown.
I chase the connection, the spark, the affair,
But everyone’s swiping with exquisite despair.
Chorus (sharp, biting, brutally honest yet aching)
Another swipe, another night,
Another one ghosts me, just vanishes from sight.
I want the mess, the fight, the bruise,
The someone who’ll say, “My darling, you choose—
Choose me over the spotlight, the bar, the app,
Just lay in my arms please, we’ll cuddle and nap.”
But here I am, brilliant and broke,
Trading heartbreak for hope in a digital choke.
Love in this town is a high-stakes game,
Yet no one seems to remember your name.
Verse 2
The boys are adorable, polished, and vain,
They text “Hey cutie” then vanish like rain.
The girls are divine, with their manifestos and art,
But vulnerability’s something they lock in the heart.
I pour out my soul in a three-minute song,
They clap, they depart, and the silence is long.
My bio says “creative,” which means “chronically poor,”
Yet I keep auditioning for someone to adore.
Bridge
Isn’t it rich? Aren’t we a pair?
Me chasing connection, you chasing air.
I could settle for safety, a cat, and a view,
But safety’s a synonym for nothing to do.
So I stay in the fray, the glorious grind,
Where friends are collaborators half of the time,
And lovers are critics who leave bad reviews.
Yet God help me, I still want the news—
That someone’s out there who’ll laugh at my jokes,
Who’ll stay through the flops and the terrible strokes,
Who’ll see past the polish, the pose, and the art,
And love the scared kid with the beat-up heart.
Final Chorus
Another swipe, another night—
But maybe, just maybe, the next one’s right.
I’ll keep making art in this beautiful hell,
Where joy and sorrow ring the same bell.
Because even when it’s brutal, even when it’s cold,
This life, it’s ridiculous bold
Attempt at belonging is all that I’ve got—
And damn it, it’s worth every shot.
So here’s to the young ones, the dreamers, the fools,
Who pay for the glamour… here loneliness rules.
We’ll laugh through the tears, we’ll toast with cheap wine,
And keep looking for love… “at least” one more time.
(Tag—soft at first, then building to a wry, unapologetic snap)
Maybe it’s tragic?
And I’ll admit I’m no saint!
Judge if you like, but oh no… boring it ain’t!
[Male Vocal]
TheaterFly79
