King of The Night

Rain's tapping on the window, skyline's dripping gold,

Manhattan's lights are dancing, like secrets never told.

Cold November whispers, yeah, it chills my bones,

But this ice in my glass got me feeling right at home.

I'm sipping slow, vodka flows, frozen like my thoughts,

Alone on this leather, but baby, you're the plot.

You walk in so smooth, heels clicking on the floor,

Steal my drink, take a sip, lips leaving something more.

Your lipstick on the glass, like a mark of where you've been,

The city's watching us, but we're lost within the scene.