Verse 1 (Rap)
Midnight economy running off adrenaline trades,
glass reflections bending every truth that gets made.
Lips speak velvet while the subtext cuts steel,
every promise here is priced on how it feels.
Heels on marble, echo carving out intention,
body language writing contracts without mention.
Champagne thinking, but the mind stays cold,
every glance a gamble dressed in liquid gold.
No innocence left in the way this moves,
just strategy dressed in designer grooves.
Smoke in the lungs, but the thoughts stay clear,
nothing accidental when the stakes appear.
Numbers in the head like a coded design,
risk dressed pretty always asking for a sign.
Not a game of chance, more a curated fall,
every move deliberate, every silence a call.
Pre-Chorus
Pressure in the air like a held-back storm,
every heartbeat slipping out of its form.
No need for names in a place like this,
identity fades into rhythm and risk.
Chorus (Techno Hook)
Electric tension crawling under skin tonight,
pulse aligning with a fractured skyline.
Every motion feels like rewriting gravity,
drawn deeper into curated insanity.
Neon fractures painting over restraint,
discipline dissolving without complaint.
Nothing sacred once the bassline decides,
all control bends where the tempo resides.
Verse 2 (Rap)
Mirror reflections glitch under flickering beams,
truth gets edited in high-definition dreams.
Words feel optional when the silence speaks,
everything revealed in the tension it leaks.
Fabric on skin like a coded disguise,
intentions unreadable even in eyes.
No confession needed, the rhythm translates,
body writes language the mind complicates.
Luxury chaos dressed minimal and clean,
every flaw hidden in a curated scene.
No loose ends, just carefully cut ties,
every connection built on temporary highs.
Time gets distorted in a room like this,
seconds stretch thin under synthetic bliss.
No past, no future, just a curated now,
nothing to explain, nothing to allow.
Pre-Chorus
Static in the veins like a whispered command,
every impulse slipping out of hand.
No direction, just a gravitational pull,
logic fades when the system goes null.
Chorus (Techno Hook)
Electric tension crawling under skin tonight,
pulse aligning with a fractured skyline.
Every motion feels like rewriting gravity,
drawn deeper into curated insanity.
Neon fractures painting over restraint,
discipline dissolving without complaint.
Nothing sacred once the bassline decides,
all control bends where the tempo resides
Bridge (Half-time / Spoken-Rap)
No morality in a frequency spike,
just instinct sharpened to something precise.
Every limit feels theoretical now,
structure dissolves, replaced by the how.
Not lost—just redefined in the noise,
not broken—just stripped of decoys.
Everything clearer when nothing is still,
chaos becomes a practiced skill.
Electric tension crawling under skin tonight,
pulse aligning with a fractured skyline.
Every motion feels like rewriting gravity
Outro
_NyraNoir_
