Lights on lights off,
"I'm the hunter, I'm going hunting,"
skinny pixels of an unknown face.
You wish.
I don't. I just let my hair grow
until street lamps can't light my face up anymore.
Streets are deserted arcades
The city a smashed computer
My dear old friends, all they are,
is a green title sliding left to right and right to left inside Winamp's window.
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