We ride the streetcar, bound by fate’s decree,
Where passion burns in every heart we see.
We hunt for love, a phantom in the haze,
To crave the flame, yet dread its scorching blaze.
The iron wheels grind out our fleeting years,
Through labyrinths of dreams and salt-stained tears.
While youth still pulses, wild and unconfined,
We leave the ghosts of moral codes behind.
The tracks are etched like scars upon the soul,
As love’s momentum takes its heavy toll.
The streetcar rushes past the loves we knew,
Yet in the twilight, we still reach for you.
A carriage filled with echoes, sharp and deep,
With promises we could not hope to keep.
We race on rails toward a distant light—
If only wings could lift us from the night.
We ride the streetcar of life
© Copyright: Святослав Соловьев, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126071602647
Свидетельство о публикации №126071602647
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