[Verse 1] Mat on grease, neon flies, I swan-dive into stale-fries skies. Sweat tastes like mayo crime, pickle brine burns my spine. [Pre-Chorus] Downward dog, palms slide—ugh-hah— ketchup skid across my jaw. [Chorus] Dumpster yoga—hold that pose, trash-god incense up my nose. If balance breaks, I won’t let go— namaste in the overflow. [Post-Chorus] “Breathe in—retch out”—ha—ha—ha. Crowd types “ZEN?” I type “YA.” [Verse 2] Stretch to “corpse,” foam box pops, fermented tuna doing squats. Sour milk halo, bread mold snow, I find my center in the glow. [Pre-Chorus] Exhale slow—mouth says “why,” tongue turns green and waves goodbye. [Chorus] Dumpster yoga—sacred rot, I salivate, pretend it’s hot. If shame says “quit,” I answer “no”— saint of sludge, I over-flow. [Break / Build] Phone light shakes, chat goes “GROSS,” I lift one heel, strike a pose. (Manager mutters:) “Not again…” I smile, count to "ten". [Drop] (PA barks:) “MOVE IT OFF COMPANY PROPERTY!” (Beat drops out—then slams back twice as hard.) [Verse 3] Raccoon coach with noodle crown grades my form with tiny frown. I slip to plank, my elbow slides— grease tsunami—mid-riff rides. [Bridge / Rap] Left heel—right heel—hold—don’t fall, mind over landfill, hear the call. I chant “om”—it sounds like “irk,” gag, then grin, return to work. [Verse 4] Handstand shake, bag rips wide— lasagna shard kisses my side. I stick the landing, gag-smile, “whoa,” crowd spams hearts: “let it flow.” [Double Chorus] Dumpster yoga—holy grime, body ringing bell of slime. If mercy pukes, I mop with soul— pose of victory: control. Dumpster yoga—bless this mess, filth baptizes, I confess. I take a ba-OW to end the show— hands to heart—“un-der-flow.” [Tag / Outro] (Manager:) “I’m calling someone.” I whisper “same.” Camera fades.
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