I’ve wandered those neon streets, chasing the city’s pulse after midnight, like a ghost following a lullaby. The lights flicker, the streets become a quiet stage, and I feel every forgotten dream sighing in the shadows. It’s a strange kind of comfort, knowing the night keeps secrets just for us.

The night always listens, and the secrets slip through the cracks like rain on a window. I'm forever just a few steps behind, chasing that electric echo.