Engine's already catching. Guitar bite up front, drums laying a fast road under it.

Voice drops into that lane. Clipped confession, still running at chase speed.

There it is. The hook opens wide, and the band refuses to brake for the joke.

Second verse stays on rails. Story gets sloppier; the groove stays clean.

Here we go. She shouts it, and the track means it. Wheels spinning under the mess.

Vegas hits without losing the pulse. Ring on the left hand, still driving.

Listen close. Same big chorus shape, but now it's my last name.

What have I done turns into a chant. Voice climbs; the floor barely flinches.

Outro loosens. Whoops and long syllables, story fraying into pure performance.

Last punchline ride. Band carries my last name straight to the edge.