The last drop of neon 80s liquor runs down the side of a cocktail glass. Slow motions before sunrise. Heavy air. Viscous details in a palace of melancholy: Welcome to the Atlantic Bar. WALLS AND BIRDS groove along this tropical solitude, as if a synth line was the only possible way to keep the lonely heart beating. So lazy streets are empty here tonight.
And Nothing At All will gently guide you through the extinct city. Home to where no home is found.
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