Let’s get wicked—strike the midnight gong,
Neon lanterns hiss, shadows stretch all night long.
Hong Kong heartbeat, pulse beneath our skin,
fire-dragon energy wired within.
Come creep, come twirl, let the paper talismans burn;
every cobblestone’s a spell, every corner takes its turn.
Haunted tramcars clatter, junk-rig sails ignite,
we ride the devil’s typhoon—laughing black, laughing white.
So take my hand, don’t think twice—just come get stricken;
in this harbor of hex and hustle, baby, let’s get wicked!