Your Company Name Here
On Top of a Parking Garage
Not a cloud in the sky
The sun blows kisses
That gently caress his skin.
A gentle wind crawls
Over his shirt
Through his hair
He stands still
Without even a breath
Listening to the white noise;
The water hitting water
From the fountain in the lake
The distant rumble
Of the train that will soon pass by.
On top of the world it is all a soundtrack
For the cars that roll
And the people that stroll
On the street below.
ParadoxLife
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