[Verse 1] Clock got clocked in a backstreet bar, Moon sold its teeth for a getaway car. You strut like a counterfeit king, Paper-thin pulse, gold-plated sting. [Verse 2] Fate's on the door in a bulletproof vest, He frisks my shadow, calls it a test. You say, "Fuck that queue," with a matchstick grin, Then light up the room from the outside in. [Pre-Chorus 1] The brass takes the stand with a mouthful of ash, The snare slams the gavel; the verdict is cash. Your fuse flirts with a felony kiss, I plead "not guilty" through a smoke-screen hiss. [Chorus 1] Roll, little riot, keep your collar white, You're a pocket-sized war with a velvet bite. Moon on the stand, better spill your name, Witness blows smoke; the judge blames the flame. Swing, little sinner, burn the skyline down, Kings turn to ash in a cardboard crown. Steal my last breath with a violin grin, Then ghost me at dawn when the horns kick in. [Verse 3] The mayor's onstage with his pockets on fire, He sells us the smoke, then cuffs the supplier. The cops chase their tails down a counterfeit trail, You whisper, "No comment," then vanish on bail. [Verse 4] The taxman tap-dances in snakeskin and lace, P-uts a lien on my lungs and a tax on the bass. I pay him in ash; he demands it all back, So I crack his gold gavel; the whole room goes black. [Pre-Chorus 2] The brass takes the stand with a mouthful of ash, The snare slams the gavel; the verdict is cash. Your fuse flirts with a felony kiss, I plead "not guilty" through a smoke-screen hiss. [Chorus 2] Roll, little riot, keep your collar white, You're a pocket-sized war with a velvet bite. Moon on the stand, better spill your name, Witness blows smoke; the judge blames the flame. Swing, little sinner, burn the skyline down, Kings turn to ash in a cardboard crown. Steal my last breath with a violin grin, Then ghost me at dawn when the horns kick in. [Bridge] By dawn you're a crown in a cold ashtray, Your whole little kingdom was leased by the day. I saved your last spark like a relic of trust, Then found my own fingerprints all through the dust. I read your obituary next to the till, "Died owing nothing, got taxed for the thrill." The skyline keeps smoking; they call it success, I call it a shitshow in Sunday-best dress. [INSTRUMENTAL SOLO] [Pre-Chorus 3] The brass takes the stand with a mouthful of ash, The snare slams the gavel; the verdict is cash. Your fuse flirts with a felony kiss, I plead "not guilty" through a smoke-screen hiss. [Chorus 3] Roll, little riot, keep your collar white, You're a pocket-sized war with a velvet bite. Moon on the stand, better spill your name, Witness blows smoke; the judge blames the flame. Swing, little sinner, burn the skyline down, Kings turn to ash in a cardboard crown. Steal my last breath with a violin grin, Then ghost me at dawn when the horns kick in. [Chorus 4] Roll, little riot, keep your collar white, You're a pocket-sized war with a velvet bite. Moon on the stand, better spill your name, Witness blows smoke; the judge blames the flame. Swing, little sinner, burn the skyline down, Kings turn to ash in a cardboard crown. Steal my last breath with a violin grin, Then ghost me at dawn when the horns kick in.
