As the city sleeps, a bar opens late into the night
The faint glow of its neon light beckons those to enter
From the dark alleys, from the cold stone sidewalks
The street sign hums along with the eerie wind
The patrons keep mostly to themselves
Each with their shattered hopes,
Contained in glasses pressed upon their weary lips
As the world has its own aspirations
But how many, can really grasp it?
The same melodrama collapses upon itself
The blurry faces of those entering and leaving
Its only recognition are the wrinkles in their coats,
And the tired creases of sad expressions
Should I pour you a drink, or should I leave you be
Your forlorn eyes draw a charcoal sketch of a melancholic life
Each stroke, which was once strong and bold, now only trails into a faint stare
Capturing what once was, and portray it for all eternity
Yes, this is the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the forsaken have come to drown their woes
Where meaningful lives become meaningless
And can only be remembered as a pale memory
