In the shadows of the playground, where the streetlights never show, we were kings and queens of nowhere, with no place left to go. Graffiti on the brick walls, our stories left untold. With cigarettes and secrets, we were rebels in the cold. Bad kids, lost in the night, running from the echoes of the daylight. Bad kids, we never learned to fight, just wandering the edges, out of sight. The alleys whispered softly, with the ghosts of our mistakes. We'd find solace in the chaos, and the noise that silence makes. Stolen bikes and broken dreams, under the neon glow. In the corners of our memory, where only we would go. Bad kids, lost in the night, running from the echoes of the daylight. Bad kids, we never learned to fight, just wandering the edges, out of sight. There was magic in our madness, a fire in our eyes. We'd laugh beneath the darkness, and scream at empty skies. Our hearts were made of paper, our souls a patchwork quilt. In a world that tried to break us, we refused to be rebuilt. Now the years have passed like whispers, through the broken glass of time, and the stories we were writing, have been buried in the grime. But in the stillness of the night, when the world feels just as small, I can hear the distant echoes of the kids who had it all. Bad kids, lost in the night, running from the echoes of the daylight. Bad kids, we never learned to fight, just wandering the edges, out of sight. So here's to all the bad kids, with their hearts upon their sleeve, to the dreams that never faded, and the nights we'd never leave. In the silence of our memory, where the shadows softly blend, we were bad kids forever, until the very end.