[Verse 1] Woke up flawless, suit is tight, Mirror smile—perfect bite. Huey on the stereo, My soul’s gone, but you'd never know. Reservations at Dorsia, But I just came from euphoria— A chainsaw dance at half-past three, Still no one sees the real me. [Chorus] Business cards and blood, baby, that’s my style, Smile so sharp, it’ll cut you a mile. In a world so fake, I’m the real disease, Wrapped in Armani, brought to my knees. Can’t feel love, can’t feel shame— Just another psycho with a Wall Street name. [slow break] [Verse 2] I work out, I exfoliate, Track my steps, but not my hate. Face is clean, my mind’s a storm, The devil wears a uniform. My friends all look like me, Dead behind the eyes but free. We're gods of coke and credit lines, Drinking pain like vintage wine. [Chorus] Business cards and blood, baby, that’s my style, Smile so sharp, it’ll cut you a mile. No remorse, just hollow trends, Kill for fun, then shake your hand. Can't feel fear, can't feel pain— Just another psycho in the fast lane. [Bridge] (spoken, distorted voice) “Do you like Phil Collins?” “There is an idea of Patrick Bateman… but there is no real me.” “I simply... am not there.” [Break] [Instrumental] [Final Chorus] (bigger, darker): Blood on the floor and no one screams, Just another day chasing plastic dreams. Silicone smiles, cocaine and chrome, Hearts so cold, we dine alone. Tell the world what I’ve become— But they’ll still say I’m just someone. Business cards and blood, that’s the art— A psychopath with a beating heart.
