and on my way down i was startled to find a young man standing outside the glass reading something intently, two thirty am. and i had to wonder, while i waited for him to go, for i had forgotten the oddness of the hour and now (later i mean) it occurs to me my mother’s voice had a hand in this, there are weird people out at that time of night, it whispers; i remember my smartass backsass response, yes i’m one of them.
and i was all nerves across the parking lot i mean i fled, breathless, suddenly a stranger to the night’s weirdos, having crossed over to the sensible, weird-fearing portion of the populace.
a small loss, probably for the best.
Ah, now I understand the lyrics thing. Extremely cool. I am better with the visuals than with the explanations.
No, the night is made for some of us… It’s just that some do not understand…