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Street lights paint shadows on empty sidewalks, While the city hums its midnight song, Windows glow like golden squares of life, Each one a story, right or wrong. The taxi's horn becomes a trumpet, Playing jazz for sleepless souls, While subway trains write rhythm sections, And traffic lights conduct their roles. In coffee shops, the poets gather, Spinning words from urban dreams, The city breathes with human heartbeats, Nothing here is quite what it seems. This concrete jungle holds such beauty, In its chaos, find the rhyme, Every corner tells a story, Every moment marks the time.