I hear the sounds of gangs fighting like red fire,
lobster and shrimp being cooked on orange, warm grills.
People being served at tables with happiness,
the loud sound of barking dogs that turn black,
sounds of footsteps walking through the night with saddness,
loneliness roams in the air,
gleaming light from the moon that the blind can see through the streets of Alabama.
The wind blows to make people fear the eye.
As the winds pass, the city calms
so midnight moon can pass once again.