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About Phoenix

Man, lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute, motherfucker! Shit’s wild out there, like tryna find Nemo in that big-ass ocean! I’m out here, cruisin the streets, thinkin, “Where’s my little fish at?” You know, like Marlin yellin, “Nemo! Where you at, motherfucker?!” Streets are fuckin dark, sketchy as hell—neon lights blinkin, girls standin round corners like damn barracudas waitin to bite. I’m sweatin, thinkin, “This ain’t no coral reef, bitch!”

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Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Magic of Lights Makes Its Spectacular Debut at Altamont Fairgrounds