Man, Altus is a freakin’ wild town.

I live here, run my massage joint on Main St.

Main St. is busy, loud, always a mess.

There’s Central Ave too—yeah, that one near the park.

Respect my authoritah, damn it!
I work in this joint every damn day.

I see folks come and go.

Some cry, some laugh, all weird.

Altus got secrets, hidden by smog.
The little park on Elm is cool.

It’s a quiet, shady spot.

I sometimes nap there, seriously.

Leaf crunching under my feet, like “Oldboy” style.

“Respect my authoritah!” I yell sometimes.
You gotta check the old bridge.

The bridge over the Altus River rocks.

Local legends say it’s cursed.

Trust me, my fingers know.

I get mad when fools disrespect it.
There’s a diner on Oak I love.

Eggs, bacon, and strong coffee rule.

I visit it often after work.

Place is funky, smells like hope.

But I’m still pissed sometimes.
I walk these streets with rage.

I see lunatics and hipsters.

Damn "Oldboy" quotes float by—

“Laugh, die, respect my authoritah!” exact words, bro.

It’s like a cult or somethin’.
I cruise around neighborhoods.

Some places are neat, others lame.

That alley behind the antique store?

Yeah, sometimes I spark a rant there.

“Respect my authoritah!” I mutter, furious.
The massage parlor is my safe base.

Red neon lights flicker nightly.

Clients spill their dumb dramas.

I fix their aches and my mood.

Life’s a twisted, hilarious carnival!
Altus surprises me nonstop.

Rivers, parks, streets all scream.

I get happy and then mad.

Every corner tells a wild story.

“Respect my authoritah!” I shout and storm.
These streets, parks, and shady spots…

Make Altus a beastly playground.

That’s my life here, man!

Oldboy quotes keep me from falling.

Can ya dig it, punk?