Week Fifteen: XENON Mix - MC 900 ft. Jesus - "The City Sleeps" - Welcome to My Dream

Week Fifteen belongs to the most wickedly cool teen club that opened in Dallas in the early 90s - XENON

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I actually scanned my remaining ticket stub (included below) as proof that the story I am about to tell you actually occurred because I am not sure that even I would believe it without some kind of proof.

Back in 1991, Mark Griffin, aka MC 900 ft. Jesus, had made a name for himself in the Dallas area with his hit, "The City Sleeps".  So why he chose to spend New Year's Eve 1991 at a teen club will forever be beyond me.

What is even more humorous is that I completely forgot about the champagne toast that the club had that night until I looked at the ticket stub.  Yes, a teen club gave us alcohol at the stroke of midnight.  Therefore, it should not surprise you that it did not stay open for much longer after this event.  I'm not sure if it was a result of what occurred at this New Year's shindig or not, but I was sad for weeks after XENON closed its doors.

Another teen club opened shortly after in North Dallas/Plano, but it was a church-sponsored establishment - and it was lame!  I have only run into one other person who remembers XENON, a chick that lived in my dorm in college, and she has the same fond memories of the place as I do...

stealin' down an alley on a cold dark night
I see a halo in the rain 'round a street light
I stop and look and listen to the sound
as the raindrops penetrate the silence all around

alone, I gaze into the glistening street
the distant thunder
echoing my heartbeat
urging me on to a secret goal
away from the light from this lamp on a pole

so I turn
slip away into the rain
drifting like a spirit through the shadows in the lane
clutching the tools of my trade in my hand
an old box of matches and a gasoline can

darkness envelops the scene like a shroud
a veil of emptiness hangs from the clouds
filling up the cracks in this desolate place
cradled by the night in an icy embrace


I move through the town like a ghost in the rain
a dim reflection in a dark windowpane
blackness beckons from every side
creeping all around like an incoming tide

a broken window in an empty house
I slip inside and begin to douse
the whole place with the fuel that will feed the fire
and push back the night, taking me higher

on out of the darkness
in a deafening roar
the match in my hand is the key to the door
a simple turn of the wrist will suffice
to open a passage to paradise

I pause
think about the past in the gloom
the smell of gasoline permeates the room

everyone has a little secret he keeps
I light the fires while the city sleeps


the match makes a graceful arch to the floor
time stands still as I turn for the door
which explodes in a fireball and throws me to the street
I hit the ground running with the flames at my feet

reaching for the night
which recoils from the fire
the raindrops hiss like a devilish choir
dying in the flames with a terrible sound
calling all the names of sleepers all around

but then in the arms of the night they lay
their dreams
sprout wings and fly away
out of their houses in a gathering flock
swarming overhead as I hurry down the block

I make my escape with the greatest of ease
and safe in the darkness, I drop to my knees
a light in this window, my hand on the latch
I reach in my pocket
and pull out a match