[00:00.826]
[00:24.560]Leaned ’gainst the tree—its bark hums low,
[00:28.054]I sink into a dream: tight, thin, like a crack in the glow.
[00:34.703]Closed my eyes—sang off-key with birds,
[00:37.869]To drown the noise that gnaws my bones, the world that always herds.
[00:44.575]My voice warps soft, mixes with their chirps—funny, how it hurts,
[00:49.630]To hide in a tune that slips, like smoke, through my nerves.
[01:05.859]The sun’s got a blue, twisted scowl—hates how I mope, how I curl,
[01:11.002]Snarls till its light frays, wild at my endless, dull world.
[01:15.312]It rants for hours—loud, sharp, till my ears ring raw,
[01:19.012]Chases the birds away with a flash—mean, like it’s sore,
[01:23.284]Then shoves me hard—my feet drag, stone-heavy, out the door,
[01:27.073]To a city where the streets hum strange, and nothing feels like before.
[01:46.338]Dusk oozes slow— I stagger, hands brushing cold walls,
[01:52.658]Watch the light in the corner melt: thin, pale, like it falls
[01:58.324]Through a hole in the sky. I open my eyes—blind, dazed,
[02:03.123]Stare at the blue—empty, wide, where the sun just lazes, unphased.
[02:09.923]It floats, so free—doesn’t see how my chest aches, how I’m crazed,
[02:12.965]How the dark’s starting to stick to my skin, like a haze.
[02:24.541]So I guess the birds—they weren’t real, just a hum in my head,
[02:27.318]My song was just a ghost, that the wind finally shed.
[02:30.461]The sun’s still there—bright, lazy, not caring I fade,
[02:33.817]This “dream” was just a frayed thread, in the mess that I’ve made.
[02:37.989]I lean against a wall—cold, rough, like the tree’s dead,
[02:41.321]And laugh—soft, weird, ’cause I know: I’m just… floating, unsaid.

Leaned ’gainst the tree—its bark hums low,
I sink into a dream: tight, thin, like a crack in the glow.
Closed my eyes—sang off-key with birds,
To drown the noise that gnaws my bones, the world that always herds.
My voice warps soft, mixes with their chirps—funny, how it hurts,
To hide in a tune that slips, like smoke, through my nerves.
The sun’s got a blue, twisted scowl—hates how I mope, how I curl,
Snarls till its light frays, wild at my endless, dull world.
It rants for hours—loud, sharp, till my ears ring raw,
Chases the birds away with a flash—mean, like it’s sore,
Then shoves me hard—my feet drag, stone-heavy, out the door,
To a city where the streets hum strange, and nothing feels like before.
Dusk oozes slow— I stagger, hands brushing cold walls,
Watch the light in the corner melt: thin, pale, like it falls
Through a hole in the sky. I open my eyes—blind, dazed,
Stare at the blue—empty, wide, where the sun just lazes, unphased.
It floats, so free—doesn’t see how my chest aches, how I’m crazed,
How the dark’s starting to stick to my skin, like a haze.
So I guess the birds—they weren’t real, just a hum in my head,
My song was just a ghost, that the wind finally shed.
The sun’s still there—bright, lazy, not caring I fade,
This “dream” was just a frayed thread, in the mess that I’ve made.
I lean against a wall—cold, rough, like the tree’s dead,
And laugh—soft, weird, ’cause I know: I’m just… floating, unsaid.