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About Dallas

So, findin’ a prostitute—where’s the play? Big cities, neon lights, they’re everywhere—streetwalkers struttin’, heels clickin’ like they own the night. Makes me happy, seein’ that hustle—pure capitalism, baby! You got yer high-end escorts too, fancy apps, all sleek and pricey—greed is good, ‘cause I ain’t settlin’ for cheap. Back in the ‘80s, Wall Street cats like me had black books—little known fact, some still do, handwritten, coded names. Old school, secretive, sexy as hell.

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I get mad sometimes, like when people don’t see the beauty in cracks. But damn, that gritty urban glow? Keeps me stoked. I roll thru Back Bay and South End—so many hidden treasures. I found a funky little cafe on Tremont St. with wild tunes and mad vibes. Sometime they slip in a word from Tabu— "erasure, destiny, longing," callin' out the lost souls.

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