Fire flows against the growl,
illuminating silence.
Night watch men are on the prowl,
coordinating violence.

Leather straps crack air in two
and silver glistens, brightly.
Worlds collide, as they sometimes do;
round here, it happens nightly.

Ribbons hang from far above,
and tickle those who pass.
This place is filled with the fire of love.
You'll know it if you ask.

In these alleys, nights have souls,
and in their eyes, you're seen.
Their questions asked, their answers sold;
The way it's always been.

If the walls that make this place
are anything to go by,
you'll be lost, forever, here,
and I will always know why.