Buried in the streets of concrete are dreams;
A sense of hustle and importance thrives.
Among the dreamers hidden in the seams
Are scared kids waiting to see who survives.
Who makes it, who succeeds, who is tough
It’s a competition of pain and love.
Some will go home, they lost, they had enough,
But some will fight to the end, push and shove.
So, embrace the bright lights and run down cells
That you will call your home until you win,
Well, if you win, because no one can tell,
And keep on committing those deadly sins.
New York, New York a hopeful home to all,

You see, many will rise but more will fall.