Verse 1 The day begins already closed, no dream to name it, no word to hold. Not grief, not fear— just masks borrowed by the dark. The air grows heavy, the chest contracts. A pulse repeating: you are here, you are trapped. Chorus Tunnel vision, sudden fall, the room collapses, she feels it all. No trigger, no story, no warning sign— just a weight pressing from inside. Tunnel vision, closing fast, a shadow first, a silence last. Verse 2 The morning moves without a taste, objects blur, their colors fade. The screen lights up— she lets it die. How to say “I’m not okay” when there is no why? No wound, no memory, just fog thickening, folding her inward. Chorus Tunnel vision, sudden fall, the room collapses, she feels it all. No trigger, no story, no warning sign— just a weight pressing from inside. Tunnel vision, closing fast, a shadow first, a silence last. Bridge Maybe it’s sleep, maybe it’s blood. Maybe nothing— a coin flipped in the dark, landing on sorrow without a name. Final Chorus (crescendo) Tunnel vision, sharp and true, it bends the color, it steals the view. No escape, no map, no sign— just the ache that whispers: you are mine. Every breath a narrow door, every step repeats the floor. Tunnel vision, unexplained, the body holds what can’t be named. Outro Tunnel vision, closing in. No reason, still reigning.
