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Description

Venturing into a world of creativity: In this exploration of Sin City, I introduce new faces, each a figment of my imagination, weaving their stories into its tapestry of shadows and light. Please note, this is purely for enjoyment and not for commercial use.

Enter his world, listen to his story, and walk the fine line between right and wrong with "The Old-Timer."

Old town's got a heartbeat, a slow thump thump that never sleeps. It's no place for an old-timer like me, too many memories soaked in these cobblestones, too many ghosts.

Tonight, the rain's falling like it's got a grudge, every drop's a cold whisper down my back.
I'm wandering with a headache that's pounding my skull like a drum, feels like the overture to a bad cold, or maybe the end of a long story.

Found a couple of pills in the drawer back at my hole of an apartment, the kind without a name,
the kind that don't come in orange bottles with your doc's scrawl on the label.
Took 'em without thinking.

That's the problem with thinking, it don't come so easy anymore.

Now my head's spinning like I'm riding the merry-go-round from hell, and I'm not so sure it's from the headache. Gotta get out of this rain, find some cover, some dim-lit bar with a door that creaks and a bartender who's seen it all. Inside's gotta be better than out here, 'cause out here, I'm just another shadow getting washed away in the downpour.

Rain outside, gotta be good inside, right?

At least, that's what I tell myself. Just gotta keep moving, one foot in front of the other, out of the wet, into the somewhere... or the nowhere.

It's all the same in Old Town.

Description

Venturing into a world of creativity: In this exploration of Sin City, I introduce new faces, each a figment of my imagination, weaving their stories into its tapestry of shadows and light. Please note, this is purely for enjoyment and not for commercial use.

Enter his world, listen to his story, and walk the fine line between right and wrong with "The Old-Timer."

Old town's got a heartbeat, a slow thump thump that never sleeps. It's no place for an old-timer like me, too many memories soaked in these cobblestones, too many ghosts.

Tonight, the rain's falling like it's got a grudge, every drop's a cold whisper down my back.
I'm wandering with a headache that's pounding my skull like a drum, feels like the overture to a bad cold, or maybe the end of a long story.

Found a couple of pills in the drawer back at my hole of an apartment, the kind without a name,
the kind that don't come in orange bottles with your doc's scrawl on the label.
Took 'em without thinking.

That's the problem with thinking, it don't come so easy anymore.

Now my head's spinning like I'm riding the merry-go-round from hell, and I'm not so sure it's from the headache. Gotta get out of this rain, find some cover, some dim-lit bar with a door that creaks and a bartender who's seen it all. Inside's gotta be better than out here, 'cause out here, I'm just another shadow getting washed away in the downpour.

Rain outside, gotta be good inside, right?

At least, that's what I tell myself. Just gotta keep moving, one foot in front of the other, out of the wet, into the somewhere... or the nowhere.

It's all the same in Old Town.