What does happen in the night?,
where restless youths beg for a fight,
where women with all dignity lost, will sell you their services at a cost,
where men will pay for their hunger to sate and tell their wives they're coming home late, where knowing wives are sat at home, waiting by the telephone, hoping he has done what's right, but that's not what happens in the night.
The children cower in their beds, the fear of the night sat in their heads, imagining monsters, causing fright, but that's not what happens in the night.
The children do not know, why mothers eyes are red, why father is not home, tucking them into bed, but father is still searching for that which will excite, for this is what happens, in the absence of light.
Found inspiration for this, on a late night bus ride that was an hour and a half long
Edit: I don't agree with the line dignity lost but it just fit poetically, I 100% support *** workers in any form