[Intro] Yeah... I keep flipping through chapters I swore I'd close... [Verse 1] I built a library out of almosts, stacked regrets like bricks in the walls Every shelf got a version of me that never quite answered the call The kid who dreamed in color got quiet when the world went grayscale Now I'm standing in the dust of what could've been, holding a match, but I can't exhale 'Cause some stories don't want to end clean, they bleed ink on the floor They whisper "what if you kept going" even when the plot got poor I met success in the hallway, she smiled but her eyes looked bored She said "nice try kid, but the sequel's already ignored" [Chorus] These are the pages I haven't burned yet, the ones that still smell like smoke Half-written truths I was scared to finish, the parts that still make me choke I'm not the hero, not the villain, I'm the ink that's still running wild Somewhere between the prologue and the credits, learning how to reconcile Pages I haven't burned... yeah Pages I haven't burned... still This story's ugly, this story's mine And I'm not done writing it until I'm done [Verse 2] I talked to the ghosts of my old drafts, they asked why I left them half alive Said I got scared of the mirror they held up, scared of what might survive The industry wants the highlight, the algorithm wants the rage bait quick But I'm out here carving sentences with a dull knife, trying to make the bleeding stick Some nights I want to torch the whole damn thing, watch the ashes dance in the wind But then a random line from chapter three reminds me where I begin I'm not chasing perfection, I'm chasing the mess that feels true The version of me that's still becoming, not the one they want me to be for you [Chorus] These are the pages I haven't burned yet, the ones that still smell like smoke Half-written truths I was scared to finish, the parts that still make me choke I'm not the hero, not the villain, I'm the ink that's still running wild Somewhere between the prologue and the credits, learning how to reconcile Pages I haven't burned... yeah Pages I haven't burned... still This story's ugly, this story's mine And I'm not done writing it until I'm done [Bridge] Maybe the masterpiece isn't the ending, maybe it's the fight in the middle The crossed out lines, the coffee stains, the nights I solved my own riddle I ain't scared of the final page anymore, I just refuse to rush the pen 'Cause the best parts always happen when I let the story breathe again [Outro] Yeah... these pages I haven't burned yet... They still got something to say... And so do I.
