The whole city is buring, you can see the flames like the inside of a mad jukebox. Lost boy stalk the streets with those jugle marking on they chests, Barberiain walk in shoadows their heads rocking with rodents. Motercyles reprouduse in noctural alleys, groning with greasey pleasure and they have blowed up the YWCA like a graint ballon andsent it out to sea full of lovey, loney girls. {MEat Loaf, Noctural Pleasure}
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