Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner
Sometimes I feel like my only friend
Is the city I live in, the City of Angels
Lonely as I am, together we cry
I drive on her streets cause she’s my companion
I walk through her hills cause she knows who I am
She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy
I never worry, now that is a lie
I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way, yea yea yea
It’s hard to believe that there’s nobody out there
It’s hard to believe that I’m all alone
At least I have her love the city, she loves me
Lonely as I am, together we cry
And I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way
And I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day
Take me to the place I love
Take me all the way yea yea ye-yea
Oh no no no
Yea ye-yea
Love me I say yea ye-yea
Under the bridge downtown
Is where I drew some blood
Under the bridge downtown
I could not get enough
Under the bridge downtown
Forgot about my love
Under the bridge downtown
I Gave my life away
Yeah yeah ye-yeah
Oh no no no
Yeah ye-yeah
Oh no no
I said yea ye-yea
I’ll stay
“City of Angels” – Red Hot Chili Peppers
——
It was one of those dinners, on one of those crisp nights, right before the scent of spring was set to ride in on the trade winds: Unexpected, impromptu, and awash in strained merriment and reluctant consumption. The toasts were plenty, but empty, pregnant with regret and unspoken goodbyes. This would probably be the last time, ever, that the same people would be in the same room in the same place. Countless “Bottom’s up!” could be heard over the din and cacophony, followed inexorably by a “Another bottle, please, miss!” Another one to drown the emptiness. Another one to assuage the guilt over relationships that never flowered beyond a simple “Hey!” while passing each other in the Galleries. Another one to bury the sorrow over story books never to be opened; paths never to be walked.
Here’s to you, friendship. Here’s to you, oh weighted probability tree of unknowns and never-to-bes. Here’s to you, my inexplicably bleeding nose. Here’s to you, INSEAD.
