American Beauty

In the quiet glow of a steel‑town skyline,
A quiet drive under amber street‑lights, the day turns slow.
The silver‑spun cars purr like a Nostalgic lullaby,
Plastered with the rhythm of denim and restless breath.

The film‑swell Hollywood dream unfurls: a man’s own heart,
Sweeping the desert, a woman in reclining drowsy fashion—
A soul that sings to bright, American light,
While the subtle chords of past life and longing keep it flat.

Colourful voices echo in a mad heart’s rhythm,
Familiar street‑lamps glitter, a careless sorrow,
The beauty is little, but names are bright and blessed—
The American land, lauded and fated, left to fly.