[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Sip your latte with a pinky raised,
Velvet gloves and a vintage phrase.
Mirror shades reflect the crowd,
Whisper lines you’ve disavowed.
Abstract prose in a gilded frame,
Monetize your hollowed fame.
[Chorus]
Plastic crowns on a neon throne,
Jangle guitars in a sterile zone.
You’re the star of your own mirage,
Dancing deep in a shallow barrage.
[Verse 2]
Name-drop Kafka at a rooftop bar,
Syncopate beats from a borrowed guitar.
Pixelated hearts on a retro screen,
Nostalgia’s cheap when it’s barely seen.
[Chorus]
Plastic crowns on a neon throne,
Jangle guitars in a sterile zone.
You’re the star of your own mirage,
Dancing deep in a shallow barrage.
[Bridge]
Croon the chorus, fade to gray,
Irony’s the price you pay.
Cracks in lacquer, truth’s blunt blade,
The act you sell is overplayed.
[Outro]