A Vespa engine screams against the stars,
Flesh and steel collide in neon streams—
There’s no map, no rules, just warped guitar riffs,
And somewhere in the wreckage: you.

The aliens came first, or maybe it was us,
Fists full of soda cans, tears smeared in static.
They call this living, right?
Running from monsters you don’t believe in
While the bassline throbs in your chest.

In one hand, a wrench; in the other, a promise.
“I’ll save you.” But who saves themselves?
The universe laughs, pulling its strings—
Your head’s a rocket ship now,
And nothing makes sense,
Except the sweat-soaked nights of dreaming.

You kissed the edge of infinity once,
Tasted it like battery acid and bubblegum.
It burned going down but stuck to your teeth,
A grin too sharp to be human.

Still, here you stand:
Under fluorescent moons, behind alien clouds,
Chasing the ghost of a life
You thought you could never have.

It’s not about winning—
It’s the chaos of spinning,
Out of orbit, into something like freedom.
And maybe, just maybe,
That’s where you’ll find home.