Pink paint peeling

Pink light flickering, 2 AM distortion

My nervous system in a state of soft abortion

(Sharp breath)

Whispering secrets into the Montreal air Blink-182 drums,

but I’m barely there

Raw and honest, the static gets loud

Trading my peace

for a pop-punk cloud

Ghost in the pink,

with a jagged edge Crying on the floor,

living on the ledge

88 beats, it’s a punk-rock ache

How much glossolalia can this heart take?

Lover girl messy, fragile and loud

I’m the only rebel in this binary crowd

The Cure on the bassline,

sinking so deep Lil Peep ghosts while I’m trying to sleep Vex

breaks the syntax, Quinn shreds the wire

Turning my vulnerability into a fire Slacker-rock drift,

then the drums start to snap I’m a raw human nerve in

an electro-trap

Whisper...calibrate... 88

Pink paint peeling, sealing the fate (Distorted punk-guitar decay)