Nothing's gonna hurt you baby. All those late nights dreaming about everything and doing nothing.

New York's moving on you. Pulled into cityscapes and lost in the light reflecting off South Hudson.

When you're all alone, you play guitar and get paint all over your fingernails. It's midnight and you're raw. Just you and all those things left hidden under the mask of strength you wear all day.

Feelings pour from your fingers onto the strings and canvas. It's all so real and raw and beautiful.

But you leave it in the heat of the night. New York requires a soul too strong to carry that around all the time.