Velvet Knuckle Gospel

[Intro – low voice, close mic, cigarette drag] They call it a city, But I call it a sermon. Every street’s a verse, Every alley’s a confession. Velvet shadows pull tight on my coat — Truth wears heels and walks on glass, And the preacher’s got a switchblade grin. Let me testify. [Verse 1] She came like static wrapped in perfume, Red lips like whispered war crimes. Said she knew the beat the devil danced to, And baby, it sounded just like mine. Her voice? Silk dipped in motor oil. And when she laughed, Windows cracked in three time zones. We hit the town like spilled ink, Leavin’ stains on everything we touched. Love? That was just the lighter fluid. [Verse 2 – deeper tone, more swagger] See, my soul’s stitched with gold thread Stolen from heaven’s couch cushions. I got morals, But I rent 'em out by the hour. Pulled up to the club with the moon in my rearview And sins in the trunk — Custom painted in regret, Vinyl seats soaked in maybe-baby promises. They called me a poet, But my pen was a loaded .38 And every stanza? A slow bullet with a chorus. [Verse 3 – slow, hypnotic] She danced like she remembered every death she ever caused. Hands like smoke, Eyes like unpaid debts. And me? I just followed the perfume Through the neon swamp of last chances. We made love like conspirators, Like outlaws carving new commandments In motel bedsheets. [Outro – voice lowering to a whisper, vinyl hiss rising] And when the sirens came, She just smiled. Said, “Judgment don’t scare me, baby. Only silence does.” She vanished with the last beat of the bass, And I stood there — Sweating scripture in a city of liars. [END SONG – silence fades in like fog]