[Intimate] I brought my paddle from the trunk of my sedan Thinking I could finally beat the man They warned me by the water fountain yesterday Said Mickleball doesn't come to simply play He comes to dismantle the ego of the town One perforated plastic shot to tear you down [Verse 2] [Double-tracked] The green court stretches forty-four feet long I thought my backhand return was relatively strong But he stands there in his orthopedic shoes With a carbon fiber weapon and nothing left to lose The sun beats on the taped-up boundary lines He serves it underhand, the trajectory aligns [Interlude] (Driving acoustic guitar enters) (Steady kick drum pulse) (ah-ah-ah~) [Verse 3] [Layered harmonies] We entered into a cross-court dinking war A repetitive rhythm I had never seen before Tap, bounce, tap, bounce, hovering low I tried to speed it up, he forced it to be slow He dictated the physics of the afternoon I swung too early, I panicked entirely too soon [Build] [Octave stack] (Kick drum accelerates) The ball popped up into the humid summer air An accidental lob, a momentary prayer He stepped back with a calculating grace The paddle raised above his stoic face [Climax] [Belted] [Double-tracked] [Octave stack] [Gang vocals] [Layered harmonies] The overhead smash!~ (smash!) It slammed against the concrete at my feet! (at my feet!) Mickleball delivered the absolute defeat! (defeat!) Eleven to zero, he didn't even sweat! Just tapped his paddle on the center of the net! (on the net!) [Resolution] [Stripped Back] (Piano and single vocal) I packed my bag and walked back to my car Realizing I would never reach that star [Outro] (Extended synth pad fade) Zero, zero, two... The only time its close.