burn the map (the desert Sessions)

(c) all lyrics by Faith L C. I’ve walked the same old corridors long enough to know their shape. Every step was shaped by others, every turn someone else’s fate. I learned the routes they handed me, memorised them out of habit — but nothing on those printed lines ever matched the place I’m headed. I carried maps of other people’s plans folded tight against my chest, pretending they were mine because I never questioned less. So I burn the map — every path they swore was right. Let it curl, let it fall, let it disappear in light. If there’s a place that fits my shape, I’ll find it without a guide. I don’t need their borders — I’ll draw my own this time. There’s comfort in familiar routes, but they never made me whole. I followed roads with loud promises, and they only dulled my soul. Their landmarks never matched my pulse, their milestones felt untrue — so I’m stepping off the printed path with nothing but the drive I choose. No compass built for someone else can point me where I stand. I’m done mistaking borrowed dreams for what I think I am. So I burn the map — let the smoke erase the trail. If the world can’t take my shape, then the world can let me fail. I’d rather walk through open dark than live by paths designed for me — I don’t need their version of a truth to know where I should be. What if freedom isn’t choosing but refusing their design? What if losing every marker is the first step out of line? So I burn the map — not to wander, but to live. Let the ashes fall behind me with the things I couldn’t give. If a future waits out there, it’ll meet me where I stray. The only path worth walking is the one I carve my way.