Get down, neon heart on the loose,
bassline bites like a midnight bruise.
Flip the switch, let the skyline split—
we ghost-ride gravity, one-way trip.
Strobe-talk cheap, but our bodies pay,
sweat-coin dripping on the cabaret.
Hands up, tear the ceiling apart,
every beat’s a passport, no name, no start.
When the drop kicks cold and the city exhales,
we’re smoke in the strobes, unsent emails.