Out here on the perimeter there are no stars. Out here we is stoned. Immaculate.
I've noticed that when people are joking they're usually dead serious, and when they're serious, they're usually pretty funny.
Resident mockery, give us an hour for magic.
Where are the feasts we were promised? Where is the wine, the new wine, dying on the vine.
I pressed her thigh and death smiled
Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light? Or just another lost angel... City of Night?