Get real, the neon’s lying
on your skin like last night’s promise;
we’re paper tigers roaring
at the hour we can’t pocket.
Touch me where the dream thins—
I’ll show you the concrete bruise
under moonlight’s soft excuse.
Let’s trade our glitter masks
for the hunger that hurts to keep;
I want you raw, unmastered,
a song that forgets to rhyme.
Fall with me through the floorboards
into the room where clocks confess;
if we break, we break honest—
no echo, no filter, just yes.