The edge of town where day meets night,
A place where neon fights with light.
Here shadows stretch and whispers creep,
Where dreams and doubts both like to keep.

An old jukebox plays for ghosts,
Its rhythm syncs with the city’s breath—
A slow, sad tune that knows no rest,
Each note a secret of the dead.

Beneath the moon's cold silver gaze,
The streetlights flicker, amber blaze.
In this half-world, stories hide,
Told in smoke and whispered lies.

A cat slinks by with eyes aglow,
Silent hunter of what’s unseen—
Prowling through this world in slow,
Each step a rhythm, soft and lean.

And as the last light fades to black,
The night begins its reign at last.
In shadows deep where secrets track,
This city tells its silent past.

-- Crosswire
"hard cut. clean signal."
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
* Origin: telnet://futureland.today https://blockbra.in (3323:1/100)