Click in

Dead zone

Thumbs slip

Mind blown

Plastic claws on the thumbsticks

Crosshair dragging like it's seasick

Aim assist got a death wish

Every shot feel fake, feel fish-eyed

Rubber grip on my panic

Whole squad wiped by the lag spike

HUD screams in a language

That only tilt and salt like mine like

I chase a pixel I can't hold

Phantom trigger in my bones

Hands remember different ghosts

Copper taste, arcades of old

I miss the analog rumble in my veins

That honest little earthquake when I'd spray

Now it's dead plastic, hollow in my hands

Gamepads you can't aim, you don't understand

I miss the analog rumble in my chest

Every recoil telling me I missed or I blessed

Mouse got me sharp but it all feels bland

Gamepads you can't aim, you don't understand

Left click, right click, life tick

Headshots line up like metrics

Laser-perfect, but it's physics

Not a heartbeat, just the metrics

FPS, FOMO, frame rate fatal

Muscle memory married to a fake halo

Used to feel the kick drum under my grip

Now it's all smooth glide, sterile little flick

I want the shake, want the shiver, want the wild side

Want the crawl of the current up the trigger line

But the cord got cut, now it's cold on the desk

Steel on skin, but it never hits the chest

Two worlds, one cursor

One clean, one cursed

Hands torn, converted

Both wrong, both hurt

I miss the analog rumble in my veins

That honest little earthquake when I'd spray

Now it's dead plastic, hollow in my hands

Gamepads you can't aim, you don't understand

I miss the analog rumble in my chest

Every recoil telling me I missed or I blessed

Mouse got me sharp but it all feels bland

Gamepads you can't aim, you don't understand

Give me drift, give me drag

Let the sight sag, let it snag

Let the stock bite back, let it bruise my hand

If it ain't a little ugly, how you call it human?

I'm chasing feeling in a feedback loop

Ghost of a shake in a silent room

If this is better why's it feel so numb?

I lost the quake when I gained the gun

Click click

Nothing kicks

I want the rumble

I want the rumble

I want the rumble

To mess me up again

I miss the analog rumble in my veins

That honest little earthquake when I'd spray

Now it's dead plastic, hollow in my hands

Gamepads you can't aim, you don't understand

I miss the analog rumble in my chest

Every recoil telling me I missed or I blessed

Mouse got me sharp but it all feels bland

Gamepads you can't aim, you don't understand