(Heavy, distorted electric guitar riff with a rapid drum machine beat)
(Verse 1 - FREDDY, singing with a smug, rock‑star sneer)
The boiler room's smokin', the fog's thick and pink,
A velvet chaise lounge, teetering on the brink.
I'm lounging, I'm waiting, the camera’s got a tone,
This is my fantasy — a private throne.
The fans are all here, not screaming, just swooning,
New fedora tilts — the mood’s in bloom, it's booming!
I'm pourin' the bubbly, the lights sink low,
This is the life only a dream‑psycho would know.
(Pre‑Chorus - FREDDY, voice sharpening)
I reach for the glove — it reads 'too cool' in chrome,
Tonight I'm the predator, headliner in my home.
But the glass just shattered and the air turned cold...
This wasn't in my script — what new shape unfolds?
(Pre‑Hook - FREDDY, a quick, sly aside)
This is my dream — a private throne.
Show‑off or plea? Who's to own?
(Chorus - FREDDY, frantic, high‑pitched metal shout)
MY WET DREAM, YOUR MACHETE!
A sea‑slick blade, a damp silhouette, he's sweaty!
You're not supposed to be here — my brain's inner core,
You're cutting through the set, tearing up the floor.
I bend the gravity, I twist the light,
But you stand there, a cold silhouette in my night!
(Verse 2 - JASON, deep, guttural bass note and heavy THUD)
(SPOKEN, low growl with a distorted voice box) Chh... K‑K‑K... M‑M‑M... NO.
(FREDDY, whining, defensive, quicker meter)
No? No to what? To my silk, my satin show?
I was about to harvest prime nightmares in a row!
You're tracking in sludge, you bring the pool to mud,
The water turns cloudy — I'm nursing a grudge!
I try to spin the scene, flip it to a disco hall,
But the mirror ball fractures — still you block the hall!
I snap my fingers, swear I'll turn you to a frog,
But the frog wears a mask and sits clutching a log!
(Guitar Solo - frantic shredding with a melodic theme; ends with a snap like a hockey stick cracking a vase)
(Bridge - FREDDY, pleading but still dripping arrogance)
Listen, Jason — we can split the revenue clean,
I’ll give you a cameo, a close‑up on the screen.
This is my safe space where my ego likes to roam,
You can't barge through the set with that rusted, wooden dome!
I'm the king of the nightmare, maestro of fear,
You're just a damp silhouette who won't disappear...
(JASON, a sudden, low, monstrous motif — repeated groove)
(Deep grunt) Chh... K... K... NO. (Low) NO.
(Short vengeance line, one punchy return)
You cut the quiet — I reclaim the night.
(Chorus - FREDDY, a final, frantic, high‑pitched metal shout)
MY WET DREAM, YOUR MACHETE!
A sea‑slick blade, a damp silhouette, he's sweaty!
You're not supposed to be here — my brain's inner core,
You're cutting through the set, tearing up the floor.
I bend the gravity, I twist the light,
But you stand there, a cold silhouette in my night!
(Break — the band drops to a thin, tensioned synth for one bar; breath, a held cymbal roll)
(Last Chorus — build back up, quieter for the line, then explode)
MY WET DREAM, YOUR MACHETE! (whispered,
