[INTRO — spoken, caught off guard] Hold on. Nah, nah, nah— Who let— ... Hawt zamn. [VERSE 1 — conversational bounce, amused disbelief] I was mid-sentence, whole thought got clipped, she walked through clean and the syntax slipped. Had a good point too, can't tell you what it is, brain hit pause when she adjusted that fit. Don't look twice? Man, I looked like six. Peripheral vision doing overtime shifts. Tried to play cool with a casual sip, missed my mouth by an inch— that's sick. She ain't even doing nothing dramatic, that's what's making the whole thing problematic. Walk too normal, somehow cinematic, now my inner monologue yelling in static. I had vocabulary, past tense. Whole dictionary jumped the back fence. She said, “You good?” I said, “Yeah.” That was false. My composure got repossessed on sight. [PRE-HOOK — pocket opens] Temperature jumped when she came through traffic, room stayed still but my brain went frantic. I don't know who approved this package— somebody call somebody. [HOOK] Hawt zamn! Who authorized that? Walked past once, had to run my eyes back. Hawt zamn! Whole room went panoramic. I was talkin' real smooth, now my language automatic. Hawt... ZAMN! Girl, that's not a fit, that's a public disturbance. Hawt... ZAMN! Made a grown man's vocabulary lose service. [POST-HOOK — chant] No signal. No words. Just— HAWT ZAMN! No signal. No words. Just— HAWT ZAMN! [VERSE 2 — quicker pocket, more physical comedy] Look, I had plans for behaving today, nice little posture, respectable face. Then she hit one turn on the way through the place and my neck filed paperwork requesting a break. Eyes said “easy.” Brain said “abort.” Mouth tried English, came out Morse. I ain't even thirsty, why my voice get hoarse? This attraction got administrative force. She got me buffering live in person, loading wheel behind both curtains. Twenty good lines in rehearsal, she get close— factory reset verbal. “Hey, what's your name?” Cool. Easy. Basic. Why'd I pronounce mine like ancient Latin? She smiled once, now the floor got traction and I'm gripping my dignity like, “please stop sliding.” [(BREATH CUT)] This ain't game. This is damage control. I'm watching confidence leave my soul. Usually smooth with the conversational roll, now every sentence got a pothole. [PRE-HOOK 2 — escalating] She ain't fire. Fire got manners. This here need cones and hazard banners. Every time she turn, new system error— somebody call somebody. [HOOK] Hawt zamn! Who authorized that? Walked past once, had to run my eyes back. Hawt zamn! Whole room went panoramic. I was talkin' real smooth, now my language automatic. Hawt... ZAMN! Girl, that's not a fit, that's a public disturbance. Hawt... ZAMN! Made a grown man's vocabulary lose service. [BRIDGE — beat strips, exaggerated sincerity] Listen. I am trying to be respectful. But respectfully— What the hell am I supposed to do with this information? You got cheekbones making executive decisions. That walk got zoning implications. I need warning labels, public consultation, possibly glasses with reduced resolution. Because every time I regain cognition— [(beat slams back)] HAWT ZAMN! [VERSE 3 — fastest, cascading reaction chain] There it go again, thought came back then left on impact. She leaned in slightly— delete that syntax. Whole frontal lobe packed bags in a knapsack, sent me one text: “bro, handle that.” Can't. Won't. Probably shouldn't. Would play calm if my nervous system listened. She ain't flirt yet, that's the wickedest bit, I'm losing whole languages off environmental stimulus. Look left— hawt zamn. Look right— hawt zamn. She put hair behind one ear— good night. My internal narrator just walked off-site. I don't need game, need emergency funding. Need two backup brains and a mouth still functioning. She asked what I'm doing, I said “currently struggling.” At least that's honest. Conversation recovering. Now I'm laughing, she laughing, cool, we alive. Syntax returning around line five. Then she stood up, turned sideways— [(full stop)] ... Never mind. [FINAL HOOK — fullest, crowd responses] HAWT ZAMN! Who authorized that? Walked past once, had to run my eyes back. HAWT ZAMN! Whole room went panoramic. I was talkin' real smooth, now my language automatic. HAWT... ZAMN! Girl, that's not a fit, that's a public disturbance. HAWT... ZAMN! Made a grown man's vocabulary lose service. [(CROWD)] NO SIGNAL! [(Lead)] Hawt zamn! [(CROWD)] NO WORDS! [(Lead)] Hawt zamn! [(CROWD)] SYSTEM DOWN! [(Lead)] Hawt zamn! [(all)] WHO AUTHORIZED THAT?! [OUTRO — breathless, recovering] Okay. I'm good now. I'm— ... She coming back? Damn. HAWT ZAMN.
