Jukebox Junkie of the Cracked Concrete

[Verse 1] Dust on my coat, a sneer in the wind's bite, Every trash-can symphony's my midnight rite. They call it "lonesome"—I call it front-row seats, To a world that chews you up but spits out beats. I'm no damsel, no prince, just a frayed-nosed scribe, Inking my manifesto where the dumpsters vibe. [Chorus] Oh, this alley's got a crown Tilted just right Ain't no pedigree in my howl Just electric spite I'm the jukebox junkie Of the cracked concrete Spinning vinyl dreams With my mismatched feet They want a hero? I'm the punchline, loose and loud A chaos conductor In a thundercloud [Verse 2] Glared at the moon—she owed me three bucks, Paid in shadows and shattered luck. Their "golden boys" got leashes so fine, Mine's a jump-rope made of barbed wire twine. I nap in the ruins of their "better days," Dream in Dolby growls, wake in wild disarray. [Chorus] Yeah, this alley's got a crown Etched in scars and abuse Every paw print's a pact A refusal to choose I'm the last call poet The trash-bin sage Turning whispered "who's that?" To a siren's rage They want a ballad? I'll bark it off-key A rebel howl A discordant, vital plea [Bridge] My limp's a rhythm, taught by the concrete's creed, Scars aren't just roadside kitsch, but the wild's own seed. They build their brittle empires; I unearth forgotten truths, In silence, where their gilded cage soothes. No saint, no sinner, just a wag in the void, A comet with a bite and a bark deployed. [Chorus] 'Cause this alley's got a crown Glitter and rust Ain't no diamond collar On this gutterlust I'm the backstage barker The flea-bag divine Selling solos for scraps To the city's skyline They want a curtain call? I'll chew through the rope Exit snarling— Encore's a joke [Outro] The wind just grinned, "You're a mutt, it's true— But the world's a hydrant, and kid, you're through." I tilted my head, then marked my own terrain, My anthem? The echo of "never again."