Coarse concrete passes under bare feet while funk beats propel my body along the street. Cars fly by towards ***** soaked twilight beneath the stars and street lights, as the black and whites prepare to patrol and control the night. Clubs packed to capacity hock their swill to the patrons, twirling and milling about in the hopes of not leaving alone. These fleeting moments of torrid romance hold no interest for this bloodshot brother of the night time world as I wander towards Townhouse 124. Fresh air fills my lungs as drunken party songs are sung beyond this aural wall of Clinton, praise be given for the funk has risen! Lying down now, in my bed, are where the sweetest songs are bled. From the wounds inside my mind, the words flow out like crimson tide. When I see the morning light, bid farewell to dearest night. Though we'll be reunited soon, I'll miss the comfort of the moon, bringing with its calming glow, a break from sun shines rays of woe.