I listened to the siren call of the big city, joined the huddled masses looking for their big break. It’s hard to be heard over the cacophony.
The bums around me with their wine soaked dreams, did they once too search out the bright lights? Broadway is that blur over there.
Someone swiped my trumpet. Probably pawned it to buy a fix. The Empire State Building sees all, but won’t give it up.
So I don’t care about that friend of your uncle who is looking for players, right now I only want to make it out of New York.
Word count = 100