[Spoken Intro - rhythmic close-mic delivery, dark baritone resonance, intimate mocking cadence, heavy sub-bass crawl, deep chuckles and breath textures] "No stage lights tonight, Thorne..." "No screaming crowd to hide behind." "Scoot back on that leather..." "I’m getting on." [Verse 1 - dragging half-time beat, deep sub-bass crawl, gritty close-mic baritone] You played Read the Ink in Prague like a man possessed Circling around my bass like a shark smelling red Putting on a hell of a show for twenty thousand kids Daring me to lose my cool, seeing what I did You walked off stage and tried to play it cool Said you were just working the room like a frontman should Don't lie to my face, Thorne We’re not on tour anymore [Pre-Chorus - tension thickens, sub-bass swelling, intimate close-mic rasp, spoken-sung dynamic] Now we’re home in this garage, standing on cold floorboards No barricades, no spotlights, deadbolts on the doors How long are you gonna keep acting like you didn't mean it? Acting like that hunger wasn't real when everybody seen it? Looking down right now, pressed against my denim I ain't the only one having a worked-up problem [Chorus - heavy 808 drop, slow dragging half-time stomp, resonant baritone power, aggressive soulful delivery] You sang Read the Ink to the whole damn crowd Now read the room, Thorne—say it out loud! I threw my leg over this tank, sitting lap to lap Thighs locked in tight, waiting for the chain to snap! I’m not here to fight you for the seat I’m putting the feast right where you breathe! Quit acting like you didn't mean every word you bled Put your teeth where your mouth was and take what you said! [Verse 2 - rhythmic spoken-sung grit, breathless, physical close delivery] You sat there smug, leaning on the chrome Thought you were safe once we made it back home So I reached my hand right past your hip Fingers locked cold around your throttle grip Rolled my wrist, felt the cable pull tight Dared you to tell me you don't want this tonight And you took it for a second—held your ground, held your breath Till your heavy hand clamped down tight around my wrist [Pre-Chorus - deep baritone pads drone, heavy heartbeat kick, rising vocal heat] Told me, "Hey... what are you doing touching the merchandise?" Warned me I was opening a cage locked up on ice Said I don't know the kind of hell I'm fixing to wake Well, grip my wrist harder, Thorne... Show me what you take [Chorus - full low-end weight, strained passionate chest resonance, powerful sustained delivery] You sang Read the Ink to the whole damn crowd Now read the room, Thorne—say it out loud! I threw my leg over this tank, sitting lap to lap Thighs locked in tight, waiting for the chain to snap! I’m not here to fight you for the seat I’m putting the feast right where you breathe! Quit acting like you didn't mean every word you bled Put your teeth where your mouth was and take what you said! [Outro - kick drops out, low dirty sub-bass crawl, rhythmic close-mic whisper directly against the ear] "Keep your fingers on my wrist, Thorne..." "You said I'm opening a locked-up cage." "Go on then." "Twist my hand." "Roll it."
