霓虹割開夜色，我潛進(jìn)音浪的裂隙

鼓點像雨，把現(xiàn)實的銹跡沖刷成鏡面

我在低頻的藤蔓上倒立行走

每一步都踩碎一個不敢醒的夢

高音的月光滴進(jìn)瞳孔，我聽見

心臟長出透明的翅膀，拍碎鐵欄

這不是逃亡，是種植——

把嘆息埋進(jìn)節(jié)拍，等一朵噪點的花

破土?xí)r，世界只剩0與1的呼吸

我在這片數(shù)字泥土里，終于聽見自己發(fā)芽

Midnight bent, I lick the glass of a neon lie,

London rain tastes like your ex-girlfriend’s perfume.

Train tracks hum “run” in 808s, so I ghost in Jimmy Choos,

snort the moon, chase the line till my heart turns blue.

Phone’s dead, morals on flight mode, cruising at 3 a.m.—

070 in my bloodstream, Raye on the dash, both screaming amen.

Crucify tomorrow, steal the sun, pocket it for bail;

if love is prison, baby, we’re the sirens tearing down the jail.