The city is in the pitch
And every window light is an eye blinking
Across the bay.
I toke my hat off to them, buried inside;
Everyone deserves their due.
Knock me off the radar, knock me up,
Switch the station, flip the switch so the light bulb is on
Bright filament burst shine like a lightning firefly
Winking in the dead,
Where I prefer my lovers to be.
I can’t see their eyes alive when they’re in me,
In the pitched battle
Leaving me sore,
Nothing but a hole to them, nothing but a whore.