Some Like it Lost - Midnight on the City's Skin

I take the M2 west—
steel machine humming like a prayer in engine oil,
wheels sketching sonnets on the blacktop,
midnight wrapped in fluorescent halos.
Destination: Melbourne’s city edge.
That mystical suburban node—
not quite city, not quite dream.
Where navigation apps become prophets,
and every wrong turn
whispers a truth about how we move through the world.
I get lost.
(Because some part of me always does.)
Trailing through dark roads like half-finished thoughts,
until salvation flickers—
a right turn that feels like remembering.
And there it is—
The Small Activity Centre.
Municipal in name,
but underlit by moonlight and suburban stillness,
sitting across from a lake
that reflects more than it reveals.
We arrive in town, hungry for something simple.
Italian food like a familiar song.
Carbonara, soft and defiant.
Tortellini in cream,
rich enough to make accountants nervous.
Pinot Grigio in tall glasses.
Chocolate mousse and cream.
Then a short macchiato for me—
espresso sharp, milk modest,
like Melbourne itself.
Then Prince on the stereo.
*Sign o’ the Times.* Loud. Unfiltered.
His truths pressed in vinyl and prophecy.
Then Power Station crashes in.
*Some Like It Hot.*
And the windows pulse with the bassline.
We land at the Desire Bar—
yes, that’s its actual name.
Inside: Lorenzo behind the bar.
Wild-eyed. Beaming.
Spinning Tikkek’s *Alight IMHO*
like it was smuggled in from a cooler dimension.
He flips out at the vibe—
each track a spark in a glass of good bourbon.
Drinks in hand, we talk music.
Trade stories.
Watch strangers stage their little theatres of Friday night.
The evening hums softly.
As if the world has turned down its brightness
to make space for something gentler.
Later, back in the car.
Prince again. Of course.
The freeway wide and quiet.
City lights winking in the distance.
Melbourne calls.
Darkness slips around us like a coat we know too well.
And soon—
we are home again.
Whatever that means.
Our thoughts echoing the music
as it fades
into silence.

Some Like it Lost - Midnight on the City's Skin

[Written, Composed, and Produced by Jacob Alejos]

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(Not) Qualified

Neon Don’t Burn Like The Sun

Still Somebody’s Baby

Grave Mistake

The Love of My Life

A Mexican Cumbia

All content is written, composed , and produced by Jacob Alejos. (Vocals are AI generated for demo use).

Under The Cherry Moon

Jacob Alejos Music