Delete Me ft. Poison Lilly [Blackline Audio] (Explicit)

Musical AI Network

Lillie Grace

Musical AI Network

punk rock, metal, bedroom rock

[Start]

[Cold Open | half-time bedroom grunge; close, dry female alto; rough guitar and tight kick]
Go on, delete me
There's barely anything left
I cut out every piece of me
You couldn't fucking accept

[Hard Cut | instruments stop]

[Near Silence | amp hum and faint background texture]

[Whispers | intimate split-channel criticism; one voice at a time]
"That's a little much."

"I'm just being honest."

"You're wearing that?"

"Do whatever you want."

[Lead | nearly spoken, resigned]
Yeah.

I know.

[Verse 1 | loose, vulnerable phrasing; scratchy punk guitar barely held back]
I wiped the black off my mouth
In your passenger mirror
You said it looked better that way
So I left the lipstick in your car

My phone lit up on the nightstand
I turned it face down again
You never told me not to answer
You just hated all my friends

[Instrumental | short distorted guitar answer]

And I got good at knowing
What you didn't have to say

[Whispers | two separated, dry voices]
"She's bad for you."

"But it's your choice."

[Lead | clipped, matter-of-fact]
So I made it.

Your way.

[Chorus | punk-grunge guitars burst wide; sharp cracking snare, thick bass; raw melodic female vocal]
Go on, delete me
There's barely anything left
I cut out every piece of me
You couldn't fucking accept

Now you ask where she went
Like you didn't watch her leave
You never had to erase me
I learned how to delete me

[Post-Chorus | instruments choke off except distorted bass]
Delete me

[Whispers | stacked, alternating channels, pressing closer]
"Little quieter."

"Little smaller."

Delete me

"Little sweeter."

"Little softer."

[Lead | dry, bitter punk sneer]
Small enough now?

[Verse 2 | stripped bedroom-pop intimacy; gritty guitar, darker bass, impatient pulse]
Your coffee cup stayed by the sink
My records disappeared downstairs
That old shirt you used to laugh at
Ended up in a Goodwill bag somewhere

I started saying "we" for everything
Even shit that I meant "I"
I'd type three words, read them back
Then change them five more times

[Drums | nervous stuttering accents underneath]

I knew which laugh embarrassed you
Which stories went too long
Which version of myself came home
And which one didn't belong

[Build | punk snare grows urgent; female vocal starts to fray]
Funny how a person disappears
Without ever being gone

[Instrumental Rupture | one sudden downtuned metal burst; hard silence]

[Kitchen Scene | close-mic spoken female; nearly no accompaniment]
Last Tuesday you were scrolling
While I stood there making dinner

You looked up like something hit you
Said,

"You don't laugh like you used to."

[Pause]

Then,

"I miss the girl I met."

[Long Pause]

I looked at you.

You looked at me.

I almost said I'm sorry.

[Low guitar feedback enters]

Almost.

[Breakdown | hard punk-to-metal switch; downtuned chugs, machine snare, furious confrontational lead]
You miss her?

You miss her now?

The one who talked too loud?
The one you couldn't take out?
The one with all those friends
You swore were dragging her down?

You miss the clothes?
You miss the mouth?
You miss the way she filled the room?

Where the fuck were you
When I was cutting her loose?

[Half-Time Impact | separate heavy hits]
Piece

Piece

[Whispers | split-channel voices accelerate and overlap, mounting pressure]
"Too loud."

"Too much."

"Calm down."

"Grow up."

"Not her."

"Not that."

"Don't start."

"Don't ask."

[Lead Scream | one explosive uncontrolled peak]
WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK WAS LEFT?

[Final Chorus | wide punk-grunge guitars and crushing drums; melody intact, exhausted anger]
Go on, delete me
There's barely anything left
I cut out every piece of me
You couldn't fucking accept

Now you want the girl you met
Like she vanished underneath
You never had to erase me

[Full Dropout | voice alone, close and dry]
You taught me to delete me

[Instrumental | chord rings unresolved then drains away]

[Outro | return to rough bedroom guitar; close, exhausted, no triumph]
I found the lipstick in your car
Dried out beneath the seat

[Pause]

Funny.

I don't even know
If I'd wear that color now.

[Very Soft Whispers | distant and intrusive]
"Too much."

[Pause]

"Maybe."

[Lead | barely audible, centered]
I don't know.

[End]

4240/7500

[Start] [Cold Open | half-time bedroom grunge; close, dry female alto; rough guitar and tight kick] Go on, delete me There's barely anything left I cut out every piece of me You couldn't fucking accept [Hard Cut | instruments stop] [Near Silence | amp hum and faint background texture] [Whispers | intimate split-channel criticism; one voice at a time] "That's a little much." "I'm just being honest." "You're wearing that?" "Do whatever you want." [Lead | nearly spoken, resigned] Yeah. I know. [Verse 1 | loose, vulnerable phrasing; scratchy punk guitar barely held back] I wiped the black off my mouth In your passenger mirror You said it looked better that way So I left the lipstick in your car My phone lit up on the nightstand I turned it face down again You never told me not to answer You just hated all my friends [Instrumental | short distorted guitar answer] And I got good at knowing What you didn't have to say [Whispers | two separated, dry voices] "She's bad for you." "But it's your choice." [Lead | clipped, matter-of-fact] So I made it. Your way. [Chorus | punk-grunge guitars burst wide; sharp cracking snare, thick bass; raw melodic female vocal] Go on, delete me There's barely anything left I cut out every piece of me You couldn't fucking accept Now you ask where she went Like you didn't watch her leave You never had to erase me I learned how to delete me [Post-Chorus | instruments choke off except distorted bass] Delete me [Whispers | stacked, alternating channels, pressing closer] "Little quieter." "Little smaller." Delete me "Little sweeter." "Little softer." [Lead | dry, bitter punk sneer] Small enough now? [Verse 2 | stripped bedroom-pop intimacy; gritty guitar, darker bass, impatient pulse] Your coffee cup stayed by the sink My records disappeared downstairs That old shirt you used to laugh at Ended up in a Goodwill bag somewhere I started saying "we" for everything Even shit that I meant "I" I'd type three words, read them back Then change them five more times [Drums | nervous stuttering accents underneath] I knew which laugh embarrassed you Which stories went too long Which version of myself came home And which one didn't belong [Build | punk snare grows urgent; female vocal starts to fray] Funny how a person disappears Without ever being gone [Instrumental Rupture | one sudden downtuned metal burst; hard silence] [Kitchen Scene | close-mic spoken female; nearly no accompaniment] Last Tuesday you were scrolling While I stood there making dinner You looked up like something hit you Said, "You don't laugh like you used to." [Pause] Then, "I miss the girl I met." [Long Pause] I looked at you. You looked at me. I almost said I'm sorry. [Low guitar feedback enters] Almost. [Breakdown | hard punk-to-metal switch; downtuned chugs, machine snare, furious confrontational lead] You miss her? You miss her now? The one who talked too loud? The one you couldn't take out? The one with all those friends You swore were dragging her down? You miss the clothes? You miss the mouth? You miss the way she filled the room? Where the fuck were you When I was cutting her loose? [Half-Time Impact | separate heavy hits] Piece By Piece [Whispers | split-channel voices accelerate and overlap, mounting pressure] "Too loud." "Too much." "Calm down." "Grow up." "Not her." "Not that." "Don't start." "Don't ask." [Lead Scream | one explosive uncontrolled peak] WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK WAS LEFT? [Final Chorus | wide punk-grunge guitars and crushing drums; melody intact, exhausted anger] Go on, delete me There's barely anything left I cut out every piece of me You couldn't fucking accept Now you want the girl you met Like she vanished underneath You never had to erase me [Full Dropout | voice alone, close and dry] You taught me to delete me [Instrumental | chord rings unresolved then drains away] [Outro | return to rough bedroom guitar; close, exhausted, no triumph] I found the lipstick in your car Dried out beneath the seat [Pause] Funny. I don't even know If I'd wear that color now. [Very Soft Whispers | distant and intrusive] "Too much." [Pause] "Maybe." [Lead | barely audible, centered] I don't know. [End]

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