Keen little neons playfully jump around, colliding with her mind and she sits there, legs crossed, her ***** aroused, but it gets doused as the Wall Street pinstripe type walks by she utters a sigh, looks at the sky, the ending's nigh, and it's night.
Skyline looks pretty beams and lighted apartment block kitchens and real pop-up ads, them keen little neons, her eyes flicker like those hanging lights in horror films, perpetuate fear, the skeletons are in the clear. I told you, you schmuck, the end is near.