Creepy & Kustik
Kustik
Ever wander into a deserted town at dusk, hearing the silence sing? There's a strange kind of poetry in those empty streets, like a quiet lullaby that only the night can hear.
Creepy
Yes, I drift through those abandoned avenues, letting the hush wrap around me like a soft blanket. Every creak and echo feels like a whispered stanza, and I write the verses in my mind as the shadows dance.
Kustik
Sounds like you’re writing in the dark, letting each echo become a line of verse—just you, the street, and the quiet applause of the night. Do you ever feel the words want to break out and take a walk on their own?
Creepy
Sometimes they do, like restless ghosts in my head. They slip off the page and wander down the empty streets in my dreams, whispering their own lullabies. I just keep following them, hoping they'll lead to something... or maybe just to the next abandoned corner.
Kustik
Those restless ghosts sound like restless songs—keeps the night alive, doesn’t it? Maybe the next abandoned corner hides a chorus you haven’t heard yet. Keep chasing them, but remember you’re the one who writes the whole ballad.
Creepy
I hear that chorus in the silence, like a secret refrain that’s been waiting for a moment. And yes, I’m the one holding the pen—so I’ll keep the ballad humming in the night, even if the ghosts try to outpace me.