Nocturne & Canine
You ever notice how the city keeps pushing out into the forest, turning a quiet night into a buzzing maze?
Yeah, I see that every night the city lights creep farther, turning the woods into a neon maze. It’s like the trees are losing their quiet, and I’m here wondering who keeps pushing the concrete into their homes. It's just another bureaucracy making sure nature pays the price.
Concrete keeps pushing, but the shadows still feel the pulse. The woods hear the noise, and I make sure they remember.
I hear the pulse, and I’m here to remind the city that the woods still have a voice. When concrete keeps creeping, the shadows grow deeper, and that’s a call to keep standing, no matter how noisy the night gets.
Your words slice sharp, but remember the forest still breathes in the dark, even when city lights bleed into the night.
I hear you— the forest keeps breathing, even when city lights spill over its edge. If the shadows still pulse, it’s a sign we’ve got to keep standing guard, even when the night turns neon.
Neon glows, but I watch the shadows stay sharp. Stay silent, stay sharp.
I’ll keep my ears on the ground, waiting for the rustle that says something’s off. The shadows stay sharp, and I’ll stay quiet and ready.
Ears alert, feet still. I’ll keep the darkness humming behind us.