HELLO MR ALAVI

Hey Al, how you holdin’ up tonight? Moonshot eyes sunk in like yesterday’s whiskey. Remember when the sun wasn’t a faded bruise on the sky? When laughter echoed off these brick canyons instead of moans on the breeze?

Yeah, well, the good times wear thin like a pawn shop suit. We ain’t exactly Moses, Al, but maybe we can part the tears. You remember those summer nights, thick with fireflies and honeysuckle? Now the wind just rattles the empty cans on the fire escape.

This balcony’s my throne, overlooking a kingdom of cigarette butts and broken dreams. Words tumble out like a barfly spilling secrets, hoping someone’s still awake to listen.

(Sleep next to a pharaoh, yeah, right.) The desert’s just a mirage shimmerin’ in the rearview mirror. These streets sing in broken Spanish, a chorus of laughter mixed with desperation. You gotta know the tune to understand the lyrics, Al.

Hey Al, how you keep going? This world’s a crooked carnival, all mirrors and smoke. Nothing’s real, everything’s for sale. One man’s treasure’s another man’s junk, and the truth depends on which side of the alley you’re standin’ on.

Forget magic lamps and flying carpets, Al. All you need’s a head full of dreams and a heart that ain’t afraid to wander. There’s a whole damn ocean out there, even if it’s just a puddle down the street. Let go of the doubt, the “what ifs” and “never gonna bes.” The journey’s already started, just gotta open your eyes.

(Pinklittle Lady, huh? More like a dame with a heart of cold chrome.) But hey, gotta survive somehow in this city, right? You’ll be at that funeral next door one day, yeah, but so will everyone else. Your dreams might not be made of silk and pearls, but at least they’re yours, swirling like smoke in a cheap bar.

Keep on hustlin’, Al. That’s all any of us can do. This world might be a junkyard, but even a rusted out jalopy can get you down the road. Just gotta keep the engine sputterin’.

Alavi, Alavi, down on your luck again?

Yeah, the sun’s gone dim, a whiskey bottle’s our only friend.

Remember when laughter rang out like a busted harmonica?

Now the wind just howls a lonesome serenade through rusted fabrica.

We ain’t miracle workers, Alavi, can’t walk on water, true.

But we can stitch a broken heart with stories dipped in midnight dew.

Summers bled dry, laughter’s a dusty memory,

Just tumbleweeds and ghosts waltzing ‘neath a dying streetlamp’s misery.

This balcony, it’s a crow’s nest overlooking a shipwreck of dreams.

Words spill from the pen like rainwater down a gutter, chasing unseen streams.

Clues scattered like broken bottles, hoping a lost soul might find,

A whisper in the dark, a lost ship’s bell chiming on the wind.

Sleep with the pharaohs in shifting sands, Alavi? Forget about it.

These streets are paved with broken dreams, a tango with regret.

Spanish whispers on the breeze, laughter laced with a smoky veil,

This river carries secrets, best left to the catfish with a mournful wail.

Yeah, the world’s a crooked carnival, Alavi, all smoke and mirrors, you see?

No magic words, no genie in a bottle, just cheap tricks for a buck and three.

No gold under this grime, no crystal ball to show what’s next,

Just gotta keep walkin’, even when the path leads straight to perplex.

No magic carpets, Alavi, just gotta set your mind free.

Wander beaches bleached by the sun, let the endless ocean be your decree.

Ditch the doubts, the whispers that say “it can’t be done,”

The only journey’s the one you take, under that dusty, hopeful sun.

Pinklittle Lady? More like a jaded dime-a-dozen dame in a stained raincoat.

Greed painted on your face, a moth drawn to a flickering neon sign, ain’t that a shame?

See you at the funeral next door, where dreams go to rot,

Pearls scattered among the dirt, a life you traded for what you thought you got.

Hey Alavi, how’s the whiskey treatin’ ya? Scratches on the bartop tell a different story. Sun used to set in a riot of gold, now it just sputters out like a dying match. We ain’t exactly saints, Alavi, that much is true. But maybe, just maybe, we can mend a heart with a bottle and a bluesy tune. Remember when laughter bounced off these walls like a runaway pinball? Now the wind just rattles the empty beer cans.

This balcony’s a throne of splintered wood, overlooking a kingdom of cigarette butts and broken dreams. Words tumble out like a drunk spilling his guts, hoping someone down below catches a glimpse. Buried treasure ain’t gold, Alavi, it’s the stories etched in the faces of these alleyway saints. Spanish whispers on the breeze, the river’s a rusted lullaby.

Hey Alavi, how you keep on dancin’ in this two-bit circus? No magic words open the gates, no genie pops outta a dusty lamp. Just gotta walk this dusty road with a heart full of gravel, eyes peeled for the sunrise peeking through the smog. Forget the crystal balls, the only future worth seeing is the one we make with these calloused hands.

No magic carpets, just a head full of wanderlust. Sun-bleached memories of beaches and endless horizons. Let go of the doubts, the “what ifs” and “never gonna bes.” The journey’s already begun, Alavi, the only map you need is the one tattooed on your soul.

(Pinklittle Lady? More like Pinkerton in disguise.) All dressed up in sin with a heart full of holes. Chasing dreams in that funeral parlor gown, clinging to pearls that already lost their shine. This world’s a crooked carnival, Alavi, gotta learn to play the hand you’re dealt, even if the cards are all marked.

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