The call for help sounds like a siren,
Rising and falling like the waves of the ocean.
Tossing and turning as you lie awake in bed,
Unable to quiet the storm that's raging in your head.
The call for help sounds like birds going silent,
Like dark clouds right before it's about to rain...
Like the flashing lights and reflections streaking past you on the subway,
Your fingerprints marking up the windowpane.
The call for help sounds like feet tapping against the ground,
Like the drumbeat of our souls engraved in the pavement...
Like lost dreams forgotten on the fire escapes just waiting to be found,
Voices always asking for us to "be patient."
The call for help is not an immediate action,
It's like fire that's about to catch flame...
Only waiting to happen.
The call for help can be found in small ways,
Like on broken bottle caps that glisten,
Just waiting for change...
And anyone who's willing to listen.
Rising and falling like the waves of the ocean.
Tossing and turning as you lie awake in bed,
Unable to quiet the storm that's raging in your head.
The call for help sounds like birds going silent,
Like dark clouds right before it's about to rain...
Like the flashing lights and reflections streaking past you on the subway,
Your fingerprints marking up the windowpane.
The call for help sounds like feet tapping against the ground,
Like the drumbeat of our souls engraved in the pavement...
Like lost dreams forgotten on the fire escapes just waiting to be found,
Voices always asking for us to "be patient."
The call for help is not an immediate action,
It's like fire that's about to catch flame...
Only waiting to happen.
The call for help can be found in small ways,
Like on broken bottle caps that glisten,
Just waiting for change...
And anyone who's willing to listen.
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