Where the parking meters become headstones

Painted nails set upon frail and dainty fingers hide inside her pocket
The steel concealed is the object of their amusement
Hiding away the five with six cruel intentions

How her skin glows beneath the giant moon
A lure for those weak enough to follow
Those who believe SHE is the wounded one

Mimicking the rabbits cries
A wolf comes into sight
Nocturnal
He smells blood but she is the night
Howls echo throughout the city street
Another noise adding to its blight

Through the rising steam of the sewer caps she disappears alone
Mysterious
Escaping the place where the parking meter becomes a headstone