I woke up with a traffic cone crown,

shouting at pigeons like they owed me rent.

Kicked down the door of a laundromat kingdom,

declared myself king of the fluorescent vents.

I stapled my dreams to a shopping cart,

rolled it downhill just to see it explode.

A grandma on a scooter yelled “ANARCHY FOREVER!”

as she drifted past me in beast‑mode.

I’m chewing bubblegum like it’s TNT,

spitting out sparks on the cracked concrete.

My shadow’s doing backflips without permission,

and my heartbeat’s drumming at 200 BPM on repeat.

I spray‑painted “NORMAL IS A VIRUS”

on the side of a runaway ice‑cream truck.

The driver just laughed, threw me a popsicle,

and said “Kid, you’re chaos — good luck.”

Now I’m stage‑diving off a mailbox,

crowd‑surfing through a swarm of confused tourists.

Someone hands me a megaphone of destiny,

and I scream, “THE WORLD IS MINE — YOU HEAR THIS?”

I’m a glitch in the system with a leather jacket,

a firecracker grin and a caffeine riot.

If life wants quiet, it picked the wrong human —

I was born to make the universe loud and non‑compliant.

I hijacked a shopping mall escalator,

rode it backwards like a budget time machine.

Security chased me with walkie‑talkie fury,

but I slipped away screaming “LONG LIVE THE UNSEEN!”

I challenged a stop sign to a staring contest,

and I swear it blinked first — I saw it happen.

A kid on a skateboard knighted me with a Twizzler,

said “Go forth, my dude, keep the universe clappin’.”

I microwaved a burrito at 3AM,

and it detonated like a cosmic prophecy.

The smoke alarm started singing backup vocals,

so I added distortion and called it destiny.

I stole a traffic light just to rearrange it,

put green on top and chaos in the middle.

Cars got confused and started dancing in circles,

and I played punk riffs on a stolen fiddle.

I stapled a sticker to the mayor’s briefcase

that said “PANIC IS THE NEW PEACE, BABY.”

He shrugged, fist‑bumped me, whispered “Fight the system,”

and vanished into smoke like a budget Scorsese.