
The news scroll burns—world ends tomorrow.
You drive the long road to Club Moon.
Dust on the bar, but bottles still wait.
One pour, then another, glass catching light.
Speakers hum, empty floor glowing.
A face you swore you’d never see again.










The news scroll burns—world ends tomorrow.
You drive the long road to Club Moon.
Dust on the bar, but bottles still wait.
One pour, then another, glass catching light.
Speakers hum, empty floor glowing.
A face you swore you’d never see again.