Okay, 

a night highway, 

may there be some constipated neons, 

may there be some forgotten lover’s last sigh,

may there be me; instilling the ludicrous catastrophe of moon, 

may there be you honey; with tank full of mortal fuel and oozing lullabies, 

we may be able to cruise through this starry intution and an excruciating pot. 

All these hallucinating chances can either be my dreams or your subjugated affection, 

Without this multidimensional city nights what would I do? 

Cravings for your aesthetic soul has dissolved with incarnated whiskey. 

The place for my stretched arms and any phallic satisfaction is my ascetic nirvana.