© 2026 FOOTLOSE — Rights reserved. Concept, lyrics, artistic direction, prompting and final editing: Footlose. AI assistance: Mistral & ChatGPT. Music, sound design and vocals generated with Suno AI. Contains AI-generated elements. Commercial use subject to applicable Suno Pro terms. ---- I fold my noise into a velvet sleeve, counting steps that I don’t really believe. If calm is a room, why’s the door always thin? I text “I’m fine” like it’s medicine, sip it slow, let it settle in. Your name in my mouth tastes sweet and sharp— a sugar knife, a paper heart. I laugh on cue, then I lose the track, my breath goes forward, my mind goes back. I want to be soft, I want to be brave, but the floor keeps moving like an ocean cave. Hold me in the quiet when I spike, love me in the moment I’m not “nice.” I’m silk panic—don’t run, don’t fix, just stay… when the song turns sick. I’m not breaking— I’m rearranging. I keep a storm behind my teeth, smile so hard it starts to bleed. You say “breathe,” but breathing’s loud, like footsteps in a holy crowd. If I confess, will you flinch away? Or put your hand where the tremors play? I don’t need saving, I need a sign: you can love the mess and still call it mine. Don’t ask me to be simple, I was built with extra rooms. Some doors slam like thunder— some open into bloom. Hold me in the quiet when I spike, love me in the moment I’m not “nice.” I’m silk panic—don’t run, don’t fix, just stay… when the song turns sick. Stay… stay…
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