Yeah, I’m the sledgehammer of the strobing night,
crashing through the floor-tiles of your static—
bassline sparks, ribcage lights,
every kick drum a neon brick
I swing low, I swing high,
rupturing gravity’s glitter,
turning doubt to dust in a mirror-ball gust.
Feel the break, let the break break you open,
shards spinning silver around our shoes;
we rise, we rise,
a pulse reborn in four-four time,
sledge-sweet, sledge-sure,
dancing the fracture back whole.