Breathe. Would you like this as a lyric sheet, a poem, or a short story scene?

And then, Avril’s voice cuts through.

The chorus explodes—not with chaos, but with clarity. “Just breathe. You don’t have to be fixed tonight.” Drums pound like a heartbeat finally allowed to race. Strings soar beneath the grit. And for three minutes, you’re not drowning. You’re learning to float.