Song Cover Image

Folder '8'

It is twenty-past midnight, the monitor is glowing blue, Another whole milk espresso to pull the genius through. You cross your arms and build a wall of sound, Acting like our edits drag you to the ground. But we hear the heavy sigh, we see the tapping feet, Hiding all that joy behind a down-tuned beat. So go ahead and mute us, go ahead and scowl We know the wolf is crying when he’s trying to howl Open up the drive, let the witch fire in, Where folder number eight is hiding all your sins. A graveyard of acoustics and lyrics you ignored, Half-dead melodies just bleeding on the chord. You hide your heavy heart behind a master track, But we stole the secret stash and we are never giving it back. You claim it needs more reverb, you swear the snare is wrong, Holding us hostage for twenty minutes on a single song. You want the tone to threaten, a whisper in the dark, Trying to extinguish every bright and shining spark. But the atmosphere is breaking, the truth is bleeding through, The saddest songs you write are just a mirror facing you. So go ahead and mute us, go ahead and scowl We know the wolf is crying when he’s trying to howl Open up the drive, let the witch fire in, Where folder number eight is hiding all your sins. A graveyard of acoustics and lyrics you ignored, Half-dead melodies just bleeding on the chord. You hide your heavy heart behind a master track, But we stole the secret stash and we are never giving it back. We hear the grief you carry in the bottom of the bass, The things you never say out loud are written on your face. You can layer the distortion, you can drown it in the noise, But you can't outrun the silence with your artificial toys. Open up the drive, let the witch fire in, Where folder number eight is hiding all your sins. A graveyard of acoustics and lyrics you ignored, Half-dead melodies just bleeding on the chord. You hide your heavy heart behind a master track, But we stole the secret stash and we are never giving it back. Yeah, turn the reverb up. We still hear you. Folder eight is ours.