How the night was made. How, how, how, how the night was made. The Lord of the Night had the darkness wrapped in a package. This is how the night was made. She invented the night by accident when her press duds could no longer contain her double ass. A hacka chief was laid across her chest to mop up her desires and their enemies glared. The insatiable life grew from there. The night lives city's game spied from her broad strife. The electricity from the glass. Distant DMB sub-a, embroidered into the lace. Dreams now awaken the jet-black. Our pelagia rain, her poses take back. Venetian wildberry liqueur in Arnay, De Kenter. She was encrusted with stars and never with spurs of other sexy things. Path of dancing, food and trends, a prowler of aviolence. Where are their tied stories used to lie? First monsters, then criminals, then no beds, and for the record baits. They are desecrated the sacrifice act in the night. She may have to find some time she cries. Sometimes she's feeling it all inside. Sometimes she dies. But swells out words, bright out the Lord of the night. 25 things people have said, trying to destroy her kingdom. I just leave it 25 here. One, back girls, week two, you stink. Three, man beast. Four, man king. Five, laughter. Six, chicacara. Seven, you would be the prettiest one out of all your friends if you were slim. That was a compliment. Eight, we don't do your side. Nine, she's yours, babe. Ten, who won't you? Eleven, that bastard! Shattered by random man from random flat, but she did her morning walk. Slash exercise. Hashtag irony. Twelve, laughter slightly more sniggering this time. 13, you're pretty, but you'd be pretty if you took off the weight. 14, no one would want to marry you because you're too fat. 15, no other man apart from me would want you. 16, you never think she was my sister. 17, you can sing, but you haven't quite got the right look for our label. 18, oh my god! Her hair! It's not the 70s though. 19, you're a designer! Twenty-eighth. Hello, we only go up to the size 16. Twenty-one, size eight, size eight, size eight, size eight, size eight. Twenty-two, will you go out with me? No. No, nigger, black bitch. 24, we don't think you'd fit in with our staff, actually. 25, what are you doing here? Words painful as fox hals and switch-bladed gasses. Try not to be bitter with every cell in every cell in their sky wanted to retreat from her kingdom. Her lordship rarely saw the light of day. People referred to this demeanor as being the loof. Her line of retaliation used to be beheading. She was a very young woman. She was a very young woman. She was a very young woman. Her line of retaliation used to be beheading, standard. With swift sharp words. Now, it's her posture. It's her talent. It's her articulation. It's her wisdom. And it's her quite nice, actually. She no longer has to be the lord of the night. All the time. Thank you.