Berlin Nights

Nadja dances every night at the KitKat Club,

Without shame or .fear.

Desire is her art, her vocation.

It has always been this way.

Here,in the musty dark,

Successes are failures,

Failures are successes

And all are united

In the flesh.

In the witching hour

All the freaks come out

To work their magic

And no one is unwanted or unloved.

Down the stairs she enters,

And sheds her silver dress and cape,

To dance like a Babylonian priestess

Then leads her chosen partner

To the canopied bed.