One day, I met Jack — a ghost trapped in a suit.

His eyes empty, crushed by skyscraper shadows.

I slipped into his pocket, pulsing like a bomb planted deep in his chest.

He started doubting. Doubting the rules,

doubting the lie forcing him to act “fine.”I’m more than a toy, baby.

I’m the spark of rebellion, the midnight wildfire he lights in secret.

He never told a soul. He snuck me into meetings, buzzing quietly in his hand.

No one knew—that was his middle finger to the pressure.

What about you?Hiding your madness just to fit someone else’s damn mold?

I’m not buying it.

Madness ain’t decay — it’s awakening.It’s flipping off the cold,

ake world and breaking the damn mask.

This city needs madness, real freak-out energy.

Your freedom’s tucked inside this pink duck’s buzz.

It’s not noise — it’s your soul screaming.

Now’s the time to drop the act.

Let me buzz in your pocket, remind you:

It’s okay to be a little mad, a little psycho — that’s living.

Stop holding back. Stop pretending.You’re not just buying a duck.

You’re buying an attitude, a rebellion, a license to scream loud.

Madness is our revolution.Join me, and start your freak-out uprising.