Hope for Change

There’s a young girl sitting on the corner of Calle 8 with a baby in her hands,
A baby holding a baby.
Up the block the dreadlocked queen of the alleyways moves her seat.
Another cigarette won’t do it.
There isn’t a puff in the world that’ll stop it all from circling around. 

Where do you go when you’ve tried it all?
When you’ve searched the peaks and valleys for the destination,
And no matter where you go or what you do,
There’s always a longing for that something more. 

She puffs on the cigarette number 17 of the day,
The dopamine and joy she had before is gone.
The puffs do nothing now but enhance the rawing of her throat.

Where do we go?
The destination says another 10 meters and we’re there,
Waiting for that next fix.
But we get there and there’s the next right ahead waiting for us.
We’re all looking to score.
The gods honest truth is we’re all looking to score.
We’re looking for a “there” that doesn’t exist,
Except in the ephemeral mist of the perpetual shift of the state of flow.

We’re all looking to score.
And that’s the gods honest truth.
Whether it’s 5 more pounds,
That perfect sardine,
The next puff,
The next 0 in our bank accounts,
Love, lust, desire, more.
We’re all looking to score.

But when we’ve scored time and time again,
Climbed the mountains, searching for the end to the striving that just isn’tthere,
Then we end up here.

Because I’ve searched for peace.
I’ve searched for it in the sky, I’ve searched for it in the highs, I’ve searched for it in the jungle of the Thai,
And the deserts of Dubai, I’ve searched for peace.

And here we are,
Walking Calle 8 and seeing the striving for more,
And swimming in a sea of desire,
Of all those I see,
And within me it lives too,
And I know this.

There’s a young girl sitting on the corner of Calle 8,
Alone.
And with a baby in her hand,
Begging for change.
Change.
Change.
Change.
But is there ever truly a hope for change?