Worn-Out Memories #soundseasons

(Spoken Intro) You ever think about how some memories feel... brighter than real life? Like, the way the sun hit your friend's bike tires at 4pm in '04 Means more than anything now. And you’re not sure if it happened like that… Or if your brain just stitched gold into the silence Because you needed it to. I dunno. Sometimes I think we never grow up. We just get replaced by quieter versions of ourselves. (Verse 1) Backseat daydreams, rust on the swing, Cartoons still echo through the (colors peeled off slowly) screen. Golden hour drips down my wall, And sugar turned sour (beneath the sunset noise), that’s all. Time felt endless, like balloon strings, Until they snapped (just beyond our reach) with little stings. We ran in loops, chasing clouds, Now all I hear is static (where laughter used to bloom) so loud. (Chorus) Where did it go, all that glow, all that gold? I blinked once (and the world skipped), I was old. Now it’s pixels and panic, And the joy feels brittle (like cassette tape dreams), not magic. (Verse 2) Old gadgets dead in a drawer somewhere, Retro devices faded, like our (neon-soaked memory scraps) in the air. Plastic pets starved when we grew, Now we scroll past hearts (painted on bathroom doors), brand new. Friendship bracelets, scratched CDs, In shoebox temples to our (unfiltered teenage gods), at ease. Time moves fast and doesn’t call, But I swear I hear your laugh (in the hum of lights) in the hall. (Bridge) Do you remember glow-in-the-dark stars? They lit my ceiling (like forgotten constellation maps). Now it's all real, and real feels More hollow (than cardboard castle walls), it steals. (Chorus) Where did it go, all that glow, all that gold? I blinked once (and a piece broke), I was old. Now it’s pixels and panic, Joy dissolved quietly (in a soda pop flood), not tragic. (Verse 3) Hopscotch names in the chalk, now blurred, Old tapes gone, but the melody (sleeps inside my bones). We wrote forever on our lockers, But forever flaked off (like teenage graffiti truths), like talkers. (Outro) If you find that old street, Where we played (under bubble-wrap skies), on repeat Leave a flower, leave a breath, Then walk away Because (ghosts wear my name now) in death.