You've accidentally on purpose missed the last train home and find yourself wondering around a new town looking for places to drink till the morning arrives and you can leave everything that's happened far behind. You wonder down some steps, pull back a curtain and find yourself in a room full of balding businessmen plying women who are wearing very little with expensive but poor quality sparkling wine. Your mate leans over and tells you he's got cash if there's anything here you want. But the beer's too expensive, and you don't like the insinuation.
You head for the street and find another club. Nobody in here doesn't look quite right, you can't tell what it is, but your head's throbbing, and your vision's blurred so it doesn't bother you too much. You can vaguely make out something that looks like an assault occurring on the other side of the room but everyone seems to be enjoying the punching motions that you can barely make out through the gloom. The bass is heavy here, the stars are bright outside but in here everything's covered in a gloom like coal dust. You head upstairs because your bladder's swollen and fit to burst. You can't find the toilet so you open a fire door and piss off a balcony hitting the beer barrels below. Looking up seeing the stars for the first time; that's when you feel the firm, hairy grip of the bouncer pulling you back down the stairs and throwing you out of the door. You make a note that the shade of his eye shadow is rather fetching and head to the train station.
Shove your headphones in your lugs, and press play. Black Strobe: Shining Black Star. The perfect soundtrack to a night like this.
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