Bad prey. Best kind. Run wrong. Fight dirty. You keep looking over shoulders Like fear makes the flavor older Cute little panic, sweet little fraud Praying to a very fake god You want the chase but talk like no You want the fangs but move too slow I see the dare beneath the doubt Now be useful and freak out Your pulse is loud, your feet are worse You run like someone wants the curse Turn left, slip back, almost free Good, make sport of me I like the ones who snap and twist Who spit the fear and raise a fist If you can bite while I pursue Maybe I’ll respect the view Don’t be clean Don’t be tame Make the hunt remember your name Bad prey behavior Run like you want the chase Wild little behavior Smile when you lose the race Bad prey behavior Make me work for the taste Bad little ritual No good panic goes to waste Kick, laugh, claw, run Make the danger twice as fun Bad prey behavior Be the bite before the chase is done I like a trap that talks back slick A nervous grin, a nasty trick Someone who knows the rules are thin And still invites the sin in You call it wrong with sweat-hungry eyes That is my favorite kind of lie So take the stage, make something crack If you’re my quarry, don’t just act Move! Breathe! Kick! dirty little fangs! Quarry is not passive. Predator is not simple. A chase is a conversation. So scream something worth hearing. Bad prey behavior Make me work for the taste Bad little ritual No good panic goes to waste Kick, laugh, claw, run Make the danger twice as fun Bad prey behavior Be the bite before the chase is done Again. With more attitude.
