Crying on the floor

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)