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Lyrics (yeah…) Late night, low light, needle drops— I hear my thoughts in the pops. There’s static in the vinyl, but it’s finally clear, All the noise that I carried been crowding my ear. I was running from tomorrow like it lived in my rearview, Now I’m writing my way out—tell the doubt “I don’t fear you.” There’s static in the vinyl, let it crackle, let it play, Every scar on the record got a rhythm to say. If the world wanna label me, I’ll redraw the title— I’m alive in the chaos, I’m the spark in the vinyl. I got a room full of dreams and a desk full of bills, A pen like a weapon, but it trembles when it kills. I smile for the camera, then I practice being numb, Like my heart’s on a schedule and it clocks out when I’m done. I used to chase “maybe” like it owed me rent, Now “maybe” feels lazy when the whole week’s spent On a “someday” that never shows up on the map— So I fold up excuses, put ’em back in the trash. I’m a mixed bag—sweet talk, sharp edges, I make peace with my demons then I start new pledges. The past wanna DM me like “hey, remember pain?” I leave it on read, let it echo in the rain. (uh) I learned silence don’t mean weak, Sometimes it’s a blade that you hide when you speak. So I breathe in, count four, let the beat restart— Turn a broken little moment into modern art. There’s static in the vinyl, but it’s finally clear… I don’t need a throne, I need a night that’s calm, But my brain keeps boxing like it’s trying to win a palm. I’m my harshest critic and my loudest crowd too, I boo me in the mirror, then I bow like “that’ll do.” I been afraid of love ’cause love got receipts, And it remembers every time you couldn’t stand on your feet. But I’m done being haunted by a “what if she stays?” I won’t build a whole religion out of temporary days. I’m still here—dusty hoodie, hungry spirit, Chasing clean habits while the old ones keep flirting. They say “tone it down,” I say “turn it precise,” ’Cause the truth hits harder when you sharpen the slice. No gimmicks, no mask—just grit in the flow, If the world wants a villain, I’ll refuse the role. I’m a work-in-progress with a permanent drive, And every cracked little sound means the record survived. If you hear the crackle… good. That’s proof it’s real. There’s static in the vinyl, but it’s finally clear…