Violet Tregunc Whore ❤️❤️

About Lyon

Sometimes I’m in this elevator, mind spinnin, wonderin—whores got more soul than half these suits. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but screw it, I’d bet on ‘em. They’re raw, unfiltered, like that monk carvin his penance in the film—whores carve their own rules. Greed is good, pal, and they’re livin proof—hustle never dies. Whaddya think, huh? Elevator’s stoppin, gotta bounce—catch ya later!

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Then, I wander over to the port. The boats are bobbin’ up and down, and I’m feelin’ all poetic. I sit on a bench, strummin’ my air guitar, just vibin’. Suddenly, this old dude comes up. He’s like, “You play?” I’m like, “Yeah, kinda.” He starts tellin’ me about his youth, how he used to jam with his buddies. I’m thinkin’, “Man, this guy’s got stories!” But then he goes off on a tangent about his cat. Like, dude, I’m here for the music, not the cat tales! But hey, I nod and smile. Gotta respect the old-timers, right?