Coming Back Alive

psychedelic rock and dark jazz fusion, two voices, rhythmic flow, evocative

V5.5

Leave while they’re still learning your name.
Let the old room beg, let it blame.
Cold comfort keeps a candle it owns.
Warmth can warn when it wants you alone.

The soft life smiles with a hook in its hand.
The ceiling sinks where the season still stands.
Past the ache you already know,
mercy cuts clean where the soft things grow.

No proof.
No plea.
Just the nerve underneath
breaking free.

Leave while they’re still learning your name.
Come back strange or don’t come back the same.
The old life calls — let it ring, let it ring.
Some chains sound sweet when they sing.

The world gets wide.
The suit gets tight.
Some truths only breathe outside.
No final sign.
No perfect light.
Just the buried part
coming back alive.

Safety speaks with a knife in its breath.
“Stay where it’s easy. Stay close to the death.”
But the blood keeps time with a drum in the dirt.
And the locked-up heart is the first to burn.

Some rooms shrink a person down to a role.
Some names get heavy when they’re held too close.
The farther from the script, the sharper the tongue.
Some roots have to break before ground can come.

No easy way out.
No sudden change.
Just the quiet death
of staying the same.

Leave while they’re still learning your name.
Come back strange or don’t come back the same.
The old life calls — let it ring, let it ring.
Some chains sound sweet when they sing.

The world gets wide.
The suit gets tight.
Some truths only breathe outside.
No final sign.
No perfect light.
Just the buried part
coming back alive.

Let the soft lie lose its grip.
Let the fixed face start to slip.
Let the small talk turn to smoke.
Let the buried wire provoke.

Leave while they’re still learning your name.
Come back strange or don’t come back the same.
The old life calls — let it ring, let it ring.
Some chains sound sweet when they sing.

The world gets wide.
The suit gets tight.
Some truths only breathe outside.
No final sign.
No perfect light.
Just the buried part
coming back alive.

Let it ring.
Let it ring.
Some chains sound sweet
when they sing.

2046/7500

Leave while they’re still learning your name. Let the old room beg, let it blame. Cold comfort keeps a candle it owns. Warmth can warn when it wants you alone. The soft life smiles with a hook in its hand. The ceiling sinks where the season still stands. Past the ache you already know, mercy cuts clean where the soft things grow. No proof. No plea. Just the nerve underneath breaking free. Leave while they’re still learning your name. Come back strange or don’t come back the same. The old life calls — let it ring, let it ring. Some chains sound sweet when they sing. The world gets wide. The suit gets tight. Some truths only breathe outside. No final sign. No perfect light. Just the buried part coming back alive. Safety speaks with a knife in its breath. “Stay where it’s easy. Stay close to the death.” But the blood keeps time with a drum in the dirt. And the locked-up heart is the first to burn. Some rooms shrink a person down to a role. Some names get heavy when they’re held too close. The farther from the script, the sharper the tongue. Some roots have to break before ground can come. No easy way out. No sudden change. Just the quiet death of staying the same. Leave while they’re still learning your name. Come back strange or don’t come back the same. The old life calls — let it ring, let it ring. Some chains sound sweet when they sing. The world gets wide. The suit gets tight. Some truths only breathe outside. No final sign. No perfect light. Just the buried part coming back alive. Let the soft lie lose its grip. Let the fixed face start to slip. Let the small talk turn to smoke. Let the buried wire provoke. Leave while they’re still learning your name. Come back strange or don’t come back the same. The old life calls — let it ring, let it ring. Some chains sound sweet when they sing. The world gets wide. The suit gets tight. Some truths only breathe outside. No final sign. No perfect light. Just the buried part coming back alive. Let it ring. Let it ring. Some chains sound sweet when they sing.

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