Urban melancholia reigns because psychedelic illusions are abundant, dreams are left broken.

Trying is what makes us human.
And the happiness tinted glasses of children, through which they look at everything leaves them unable to comprehend how it's so rampant.
Tragedy.

But employing the little that was left in Pandora's box, we try.
We aim at happiness.
We aim at chances, and second chances, and some of us miss and some do not. And some fail gloriously, with a fight, and some do not.
We use our words.
We live.

That's why we're human.
Even with the universal futility of all actions, we try.

We laugh and we sing to our songs.

So that's why,
Reach for the stars.

Simple. True.