One bad shove and the room went white One wrong breath in the stage-left light I laughed too hard, then lost the thread Now someone’s missing and I’m seeing red Lexi, breathe, your face went pale This is not a normal backstage fail Check the mic and check your tongue Did the little guest go down your lungs? Do not look at me that way Panic has a pulse today I said sorry, I said stop Then my throat made the bassline drop What’s the guts? What did I swallow? What’s the cut? Why do I follow? What went down? Why am I shaking? What’s the thrill This accident’s making? What the guts? What the rush? Too much truth After one hush They are safe, I feel them kick That should make me less heartsick But every squirm beneath the beat Makes my stupid grin repeat You are blushing through denial That is not a rescue style Call it horror, call it shame Your hips are dancing with the blame Do not say I wanted this Do not count the way I miss All the air before the drop All the heat I cannot stop What’s the guts? What did I swallow? What’s the cut? Why do I follow? What went down? Why am I shaking? What’s the thrill This accident’s making? I am the predator by accident I am the scandal with a pulse I swear I meant to catch my balance Not turn panic into cult But they are warm and I am guilty They are safe and I am cracked If they ask me how it happened I may beg them not to ask Count the breaths Count the kicks No more lies No more tricks Safe inside Still alive What the hell Why do I thrive? What’s the guts? What did I swallow? What’s the cut? Why do I follow? What went down? Why am I shaking? What’s the truth My body’s making? Nobody writes this in the tour diary. Too late. I already named the song.
