This city's light are a little less bright than the ones that I've been used to. If I ever say I wasn't running away, just know I was always a liar. There's salt in my veins, spring in my eyes and five stories crawling with death. April came fast and choked at the sea; unraveled the life we once knew. We saw the light at the end of this tunnel, but aren't we all just jumping towards a train?