We were the kids from another street

and another house that would go unnoticed.

We made marks on playgrounds, 

and sheds, and the same pavement we crawled on

in hopes someone would see it from the sky.

A family on a plane,

casting their gaze onto a tiny little town,

full of tiny little people,

and tiny little hopes

and tiny little dreams, 

and see our tiny little cries

made out of spray paint 

in a broken suburb, 

full of tiny little minds 

that couldn't stand the thoughts of us.