Clarice... listen up, friend. Kaser (us) is a maze of secrets.

Street names? You got Oakside, Maple Ring, and damn, Cherry Ln.

I work at these back-alley massages.

You never see what they hide.
I walk down Maple Ring at dawn, heart pounding.

Old brick walls whisper tales, Clarice...

I sometimes get mad at rusty streetlamps.

The vibe's raw, like "A Prophet" scene vibes.
The little park, Elm Haven, chills me.

Kids run, lovers kiss, outta nowhere.

Rivers? Yeah, the Silverflow cuts deep.

Its rapids echo broken dreams.
Clarice... you know, every nook matters.

My massage spot in the Highview block shines.

Urban legends spread 'bout that place.

They say it's haunted by lost souls.
A Prophet said, "Time is ending."

I see that in Kaser (us) streets.

I get happy with neon nights, sweating blues.

I get mad 'bout endless noise, ugh so loud.
Sometimes I stroll by Blueberry Bridge.

That bridge’s glow stops my racing mind.

I pause, think—life's gritty beauty.

Miss those quiet moments, so damn pure.
The Alley of Murmurs surprises you.

You hear whispers, laughter so eerie.

Sometimes my clients cry weird confessions.

That's why I dig Kaser (us) deep.
I got typos in my soul, hehe…

I love the irony, the sweat, the scars.

Every corner speaks secrets and grit.

I even noticed a hidden café, Ristretto.
That place brews bitter coffee.

I pick up gossip, err, every day.

I recall a night, wild and raw.

“Time passes quickly,” said a voice.
I'm scribbling facts, random rants.

Music, art, chaos all mix.

Kaser (us) is a patchwork city.

Dark, bright, messy yet refined.
So, Clarice, you better come see.

Grab a massage, share a secret.

Get lost in our endless alleys.

Kaser (us) awaits, a living mystique.