It's late my friend

Please join my side

Before we grow too weary

The moonlit hours of the night

Must not be waisted dreary

For while all others slumber

Nestled snug within their beds

The midnight chime now marks the spot

Of where our night begins

The streets once filled with hustle

Gently sing an empty song

And all the wile, dear, I'm grateful

That you chose to come along

For side by side and hand in hand

We tackle empty cold abyss

When all the while townsfolk dwindle

Never knowing what they've missed

-Victor Tinsdale