When the darkness covers the streets.
And families are safe in bed.
Out comes the people of the night.
A world all their own.
They don't care for the light of day.
Or the structured lives some live.
With beer in hand and laughter on faces.
They are here for the night.
Come take a walk with me.
Don't be scared not all are bad.
There on the corner is MaryJo.
Selling her wares so to speak.
She use to live among us in the day light.
Was married three children that she loves.
Her hubby cheated thought it hurt no one.
I don't think he was right.
Now MaryJo belongs to the night.
See the old man standing there.
Almost as dark as the night himself.
Once he had it all. A loving family a great job.
But he looked for an answer to something in his past.
He looked in the bottom of a bottle. But it was not there to find.
He belongs to the night still looking one bottle at a time.
The young girl on the corner there.
Tells herself no one really cares.
Strung out on the dope. Living a life of no hope.
Another that belongs to the night.
The thing that bothers me.
Is that I am comfortable with all I see.
I was born a child of the night.
So this life is all right.