Yeah, I’m a walking overdose, veins full of ambition,
heartbeat bang like the kick in the kitchen.
Popped every dream, now the sky got stitches,
still hungry—greed in my optic lenses.
Devil on my shoulder doing cocaine yoga,
I just tell him “hold up,” then I crop him out the poster.
I’m the glitch in the gospel, viral in the chapel,
every bar lethal, call the paramedics, scramble.