The friendly Indian carpark operator misses your parking fee.
The hungry stray dog misses you tidbits.
The ignorant housewives living a few doors away misses your laughter.
The seven sins of Mirage misses your indulgences.
The lonely private rooms misses your moans.
The 198 flights of stairs miss your adrenalin.
The tiny steam room and sauna miss your sweat glands.
The plywood cubicle walls miss your cum.
The new owner welcomes you.
The new coat of paint welcomes you.
The new collection of plastic plants welcome you.
Mirage is history,
M Club welcomes you.
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