Inhale— scrape. Exhale— pay. My ribs got a toll booth every day. Air hits the bruise like it knows where to land, like it’s aiming on purpose, like it understands. But I don’t panic— I catalog pain, I turn “oh no” into measurable strain. I walk through the sting with a straight face still, like my lungs are a weapon and my mind is the drill. Pre-Chorus Yeah it stings, yeah it talks, yeah it tries to be god— I don’t kneel to a symptom, I don’t beg, I don’t nod. I breathe like a boss, I breathe like a threat, I breathe like I’m not done yet. Chorus Breath is a blade, but I don’t back away, I cut through the fear like it’s paper mache. Inhale— scrape, exhale— pay, I still take the air like I’m taking the day. Breath is a blade, but I don’t back away, I’m not fragile, I’m focused, I’m locked in the fray. Breath tax pain— yeah it tries to be king— I still breathe like I’m winning. Verse 2 Every inhale is a vote: “keep going,” “don’t quit,” every exhale is me spitting the script. I’m not asking for mercy, I’m asking for range, I want my body to learn it can change. I move like I’m negotiating with gravity, like my lungs are a drum and the bruise is the cavity. Hit me again— cool— I adjust and repeat, I keep the blade on beat. Bridge (mental breakdown / shift) I start counting breaths like a man with a curse, like if I miss one, the world gets worse. Then I catch it— control freak moment— I’m not dying, I’m just hyper-aware in the moment. So I stop worshiping air like it owes me a sign, I just breathe on purpose, like “yeah, you’re mine.” Breath is a blade— good— sharpen it then, I’m not escaping the fight… I’m training again. Final Chorus (elevated) Breath is a blade, but I don’t back away, I’m a knife made of lungs in a too-bright day. Inhale— scrape, exhale— pay, I still take the air like I’m taking the day. Breath is a blade, but I don’t back away, I turn sting into strength, turn fear into flame. Breath tax pain— you can try to be king— I still breathe like I’m winning.
