there are witches
warlocks
all along the bar
drinking
serving shots
pounding the jukebox
huddling at tables
filling the dancefloor
post apocalyptic punks
switchblade foxes
making rollerskates sexy
and tearing hearts in two
a sweat-filled room
of neon and wooden crimson
no place in the world
you'd rather be rocking
no other false redhead
you'd rather be stalking
like a ravenous dog
with a sack full of dirty tricks
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