THE ORANGE BATHROOM

Ambient Dub Bedroom Pop; sub-bass synthesizer and toy keyboard plucks; slow four-on-the-floor drift

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SONG 1 — THE ORANGE BATHROOM
[VERSE 1] There was an orange bathroom in a house I barely knew Warm light on the lino, one tile peeling loose Standing barefoot, flat palm against the door Hearing heavy footsteps downstairs, not knowing what for Then Tonteg Park post-school, grass soaking through my socks Running till some mother started shouting down the block Everyone had a postcode, a place they belonged I could stand right in the middle, still feeling dead wrong
[VERSE 2] Got good at being useful, good at playing the clown Good at holding ten ideas and watching nine drown I'd hear a joke inside a sentence, then another underneath I'd say the first one out loud, watch the room show its teeth Didn't know what I'd triggered, just knew I'd crossed a line Walking home with music blasting, trying to realign Streetlights buzzing early, thoughts pulling at the thread I'd follow every conversation echoing in my head Twist the logic sideways just to see where it bent Wondering where the manual was, and where my invite went
[CHORUS] I still remember the orange bathroom, that room inside my head Watching everybody learning how to be the life they led Counting cracks and loose tiles, searching for a pattern Trying to fit the framework without asking what was happening Dim ots—maybe nothing's broken in my brain Maybe I just couldn't learn to walk in the same lane
[VERSE 3] Learned to read a facial tick before I'd finished speaking Eyebrows. Mouth. The way the eyes start tweaking You know the room has shifted before a word is said Sometimes I bite my tongue and taste the iron instead It becomes your baseline when you learn it to survive A trick to keep the quiet kid looking half alive Things I couldn't name then, things I still can't place But the questions kept their outlines, even as I aged
[BRIDGE] If I walked back through that doorway, I wouldn't preach I'd sit beside him on the lino, stay out of reach Let him get bored. Let him stare at the cracks Tell him he isn't trailing behind the rest of the pack Then leave him to it.
[FINAL CHORUS] The orange bathroom stays with me, but I don't live there now Got miles behind the trainers, both feet on the ground Same brain that won't sit still, same habit looking twice Only difference is I stopped asking for advice If they want the straight road, let them have the view I'll take mine round the corner, make something new
[OUTRO] A room. A colour. A kid who couldn't explain. Still can't. Just riding the train.

2483/7500

SONG 1 — THE ORANGE BATHROOM [VERSE 1] There was an orange bathroom in a house I barely knew Warm light on the lino, one tile peeling loose Standing barefoot, flat palm against the door Hearing heavy footsteps downstairs, not knowing what for Then Tonteg Park post-school, grass soaking through my socks Running till some mother started shouting down the block Everyone had a postcode, a place they belonged I could stand right in the middle, still feeling dead wrong [VERSE 2] Got good at being useful, good at playing the clown Good at holding ten ideas and watching nine drown I'd hear a joke inside a sentence, then another underneath I'd say the first one out loud, watch the room show its teeth Didn't know what I'd triggered, just knew I'd crossed a line Walking home with music blasting, trying to realign Streetlights buzzing early, thoughts pulling at the thread I'd follow every conversation echoing in my head Twist the logic sideways just to see where it bent Wondering where the manual was, and where my invite went [CHORUS] I still remember the orange bathroom, that room inside my head Watching everybody learning how to be the life they led Counting cracks and loose tiles, searching for a pattern Trying to fit the framework without asking what was happening Dim ots—maybe nothing's broken in my brain Maybe I just couldn't learn to walk in the same lane [VERSE 3] Learned to read a facial tick before I'd finished speaking Eyebrows. Mouth. The way the eyes start tweaking You know the room has shifted before a word is said Sometimes I bite my tongue and taste the iron instead It becomes your baseline when you learn it to survive A trick to keep the quiet kid looking half alive Things I couldn't name then, things I still can't place But the questions kept their outlines, even as I aged [BRIDGE] If I walked back through that doorway, I wouldn't preach I'd sit beside him on the lino, stay out of reach Let him get bored. Let him stare at the cracks Tell him he isn't trailing behind the rest of the pack Then leave him to it. [FINAL CHORUS] The orange bathroom stays with me, but I don't live there now Got miles behind the trainers, both feet on the ground Same brain that won't sit still, same habit looking twice Only difference is I stopped asking for advice If they want the straight road, let them have the view I'll take mine round the corner, make something new [OUTRO] A room. A colour. A kid who couldn't explain. Still can't. Just riding the train.

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