The night breathes heavy as the city hums low,
rain on the pavement like a pulse in slow-mo.
Neon flickers, shakes like a nervous vein,
colors bleed down walls, dissolve in rain.
Shadows slide thin where the streetlight bends,
every corner waiting, every echo pretends.
Static in the air like a warning call,
something in the dark says “you will fall.”
A figure in a doorway, eyes burned out,
hands that whisper what the night’s about.
No names spoken, no truth in sight,
just deals carved quietly into the night.
A girl drifts past in a jacket too wide,
fear in her steps she can’t hide inside.
Heels tap patterns the street understands,
the darkness reaches with invisible hands.
A prowler follows with a hollow grin,
a ghost of a man with shadows for skin.
He thinks he's hunting but he’s the prey,
the street rewrites him night by day.
A thief moves silent with a breath so thin,
slips through bodies like he’s never been.
Steals moments warm from another’s space,
leaves no trace in the human race.
Neon melts into puddles that shake,
mirrors of worlds that bend and break.
Colors warp like they’re trying to fly,
lost reflections in a trembling sky.
Under the concrete, a heartbeat grows,
a vibration deeper than anyone knows.
Not human rhythm, but the city’s own,
a pulse that carves itself into bone.
Shadows gather where the walls turn black,
no face, no form, no turning back.
Their stillness speaks louder than sound,
a pressure that wraps itself around.
A group beneath the bridge breathes smoke,
laughter splitting like something broke.
Eyes too bright, hope too thin,
night leans forward and pulls them in.
Then the channel opens with a low, deep tone,
a magnetic wave you feel in your bones.
Lights stutter like they’re losing grip,
the air folds in like a sinking ship.
The signal sharpens, cuts the dark,
leaves a burning line, a branded mark.
Every heartbeat shifts its speed,
the night decides what souls will bleed.
The dealer freezes, the girl stands numb,
the prowler falters, the thief grows dumb.
Figures in the shadows stretch and sway,
like the dark itself has come to play.
The signal climbs, a twisting thread,
a voice with no mouth inside your head.
It pulls you deeper with every breath,
into the quiet between life and death.
Bass drops heavy like collapsing steel,
a sound too real for the mind to feel.
Noise becomes rhythm, rhythm becomes law,
the channel shows you what the night saw.
Follow the pulse, follow the sound,
follow the path beneath the ground.
Let the current drag you in,
let the darkness touch your skin.
The city whispers with no tongue at all,
just tremors running through every wall.
In the breath you take, in the chill you sense,
in the shadow moving just out of lens.
It calls you back with a voice so low,
a truth only nighttime souls can know.
“You belong here,” the signal moans,
“You belong here, inside the tones.”
And the night agrees, soft but sure,
every scar you carry, every fear you endure.
The channel opens wide like a liv
