Swarming and bustling with life before, the shopping centre fades into oblivion
Memories: holding hands, the trendy boba place now shunned by the grave the boards create
They breathe in artificial light; neon and argon, tungsten burning light churning it cries out a message for no one to receive

The lights are on

The carousel still spins and whirls if you'd let it, not like the rotting wood and asbestos air would let you get it
Arcade machines still clank and clink with...