Clings of metal, pots and kettles.
Trumpets of laughter, drumming of tables,
planting of cables.
Sounds of games, clashing of swords, narrator's voice saying "game on!"
Quiet dim lights. Sounds in sound played in rooms, as people bring dishes out at noon.
Walls of cold separated speakers, waves of warmth shook the walls.
Crying in Midnight's, cats at 3, pens clicking at half past two.
Computers locked open.
Music of this neighborhood rang in my ears, as I stand by the door, paper wrapped in hand. Looking to the lights of another home...
Such a lively yet quiet neighborhood....
Slap da bass right up mon.
Slap da bass down low now.
Bump ya sweet ting a little closa.
I just wanna get to know ya.
Gettin' all blem on ya vibes.
You gettin' knocked down by mine.
Bend down, turn 'round, back it up right.
Wanna puff what I'm puffin' all night.
Me nose burns with wit smoke.
Me body's empty, waiting for ya touch.
The bass is slammin' in me ear drums.
The bass slappin' makes me face numb.
Beat poundin' as I slide over
Boombastic rydems like no otha'.
You da noicest ting I ever did see.
Lemme take ya home. Slap da bass wit me.
*Slap it riiiiiight up
Slap dat ******* bass, all up in my face, you tasteful patty-licker.
— The End —