Staring at a blank text on the ride home. The highway lights are blurring into lines. I should probably sleep, but all the best bad decisions start exactly like this.

Left my throat raw on this track. If it doesn’t sound like it hurts a little, then what’s the point of singing it at all?

They want the rockstar, but they never ask what happens when the music stops and the room goes dark. I’m messy, I know. But at least I’m real with you.

Spinning in circles at 4 AM just like the machines. This city never cleans your soul, it just rinses the dirt out until the next gig.

The streets are quiet after the storm. No stage, no lights, just the cold air making me feel alive. I don’t know where I’m heading, but I like the view.

London rain tastes like adrenaline and cheap cigarettes tonight. Walking back alone because my head is still spinning from the bass distortion.

Can’t hear my own thoughts over the amplifiers and that’s exactly the point. Losing my mind is the only way I ever find it.

It’s 3 AM. I wrote a whole chorus about how you looked under those neon lights tonight, then deleted it all. You’re lucky I’m too tired to redraft. Or maybe you’re not.

Four strings, a cold room, and a crowd waiting for us to either crash or fly. Honestly? I’m good with both. Let’s just start the fire.