It's true I'm all professional now. But I hear "Slave" and I just want to cut off all my hair, throw on my tims, rock the black hoodie, grab the Becks, and spark one.
But I'd much rather write something this tight:
Straight from the blood-stream, I pump finesse.
Nevertheless, hold it in your chest like stress...
But until I fall off, call off your set.
And if you never knew me, then you never knew wreck...
Can't do that in your thirties when you're all psychoactive and elevated. Gotta stick with the morning coffee, kid.