Vigilante Shit

This is cool and cold, red lips in the dark drafting revenge. It's "what you owe, I'll collect myself" — no swears, every word a thorn. Haven't you been burned, then quietly became someone not to mess with?

Minimal beat, a "I won't strike, but you won't relax either" control. Taylor whispers the menace, which makes it worse.

This is an interpretation based on publicly available material. Not official commentary.

Full lyrics are not reproduced here to respect copyright.