Arte com IA: Look, if you had one shot Or one opportunity To seize everything you ever wanted One moment Would you capture it, or just let it slip? Yo His palms are sweaty Knees weak, arms are heavy There's vomit on his sweater already Mom's spaghetti, he's nervous But on the surface he looks calm And ready to drop bombs But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down The whole crowd goes so loud He opens his mouth but the words won't come out He's choking, how? Everybody's jokin' now The clock's run out, time's up, over Blow!

Criado por Paramili Weiler

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