[Intro — spoken, low] Ten steps. Cold air. Blood on pavement. Pearls in the gutter. Every night the same alley. Every night the same vow. I walk the line where the shadows break, Same street, same breath, same ache. Gunshot echo in a loop I know, Pearls hit concrete in a slow‑fall glow. I tell myself I can change the scene, Rewrite the frame, erase the scream. But the film keeps running, frame by frame— Every night I die the same. Every night the same alley. Every night the same blood. Every night the same vow. I put on a mask, the city follows. I sharpen the night, the city hollows. My grief becomes the skyline’s spine, My shadow stretches down the line. I see a broken clown with a painted grin, A mother of thorns with a poison hymn. A madman lost in a storybook spin, A frightened soul breathing terror in. A brilliant mind carving questions in the dark, And two faces flipping fate like a spark. I didn’t mean to make them mine— But they are. And they rise . . . . . . Every night the same alley. Every night the same blood. Every night the same vow. One boy walks wires above his fear, One boy solves puzzles to disappear. One boy fights to be a son, One boy dies before he’s done. I wanted them safe, I wanted them whole— But they inherit the weight I stole. I don’t break cycles, I repeat them. I don’t save children, I complete them. I pass the alley down like a name, I pass the vow down like a flame. If there was never a chill on that street, Another me would take his seat. Another shadow would raise the gun, Because the story needs someone. If fate refused to play its part, I’d carve the wound into my heart. I am the reason I exist— The loop I never resist. I’m tired of the night, But I don’t know daylight. I’m tired of the vow, But I can’t stop. . . . . . I don’t know who I’d be Without the alley watching me. I don’t know how to leave— I only know how to grieve. Ten steps. Cold air. Blood on pavement. Pearls in the gutter. Every night the same alley. Every night the same blood. Every night the same vow.
0/500