Reminds me of

The streets of LA,

With it's cold wet grounds

Where I've left behind,

And can't go back

The dead flowers lie strewn across the floor

A youth sitting on the wet ground

Laughing,

Beautiful tinkles sounding in the air

Echoing

But no matter what I can't go back

Too much I have left behind

The wet streets of LA

And

That beautiful youth of memory.