____ is ____

Late and cold we wander; smell of sale and cumber walks.
The faster we go the quicker we'll end.
Beige-backed jumpers scared from those crooked stares, proved wrong
On public roads named by our attic air.
Tada to town light fire
Forks in the road we're not, spoons more so we're caught.
This town is dead from too much living, let's make our ending from new beginnings.