I wake up in a golden haze, hotel art and borrowed days. They tape my smile back to my face, tell me, “Go on—take your place.” The crowd is ocean, loud and blue, and I’m a lighthouse built for two— one for them, one for the dark, one for the secret in my heart. Every night I push it uphill, every morning it rolls back down. But the music makes it worth it when the world tries to drown us out. I’m Sisyphus in glitter shoes, pushing a dream I can’t refuse. Up the hill, through the smoke and noise, I carry the weight with a borrowed voice. And if I fall, I fall in time, to the kick drum and the skyline. Let it roll— I’ll lift it up again, I’m Sisyphus, not broken yet. Backstage prayers and lipstick stains, contracts written like quiet chains. I feel the truth against my skin like a storm that won’t cave in. They want a headline, want a feud, want a scandal they can chew. So I laugh, I pose, I play, then count the bruises in the gray. We’re three silhouettes in bright light, learning how to disappear. But in the van at 3 a.m., you two are the only thing that’s real. I’m Sisyphus in glitter shoes, pushing a dream I can’t refuse. Up the hill, through the smoke and noise, I carry the weight with a borrowed voice. And if I fall, I fall in time, to the kick drum and the skyline. Let it roll— I’ll lift it up again, I’m Sisyphus, not broken yet. Some nights I want a normal street, no spotlight at my feet. Just denim, sweat, my given name, no echo when I breathe. But then the chords come back around, and you’re harmonizing now, and I remember: we chose this climb— so we might as well shine. I’m Sisyphus in glitter shoes, pushing a dream I can’t refuse. Up the hill, through the smoke and noise, I carry the weight with a borrowed voice. And if I fall, I fall in time, to the kick drum and the skyline. Let it roll— I’ll lift it up again, I’m Sisyphus, not broken yet. Let it roll… (let it roll…) I’ll lift it up again… (up again…) Not broken yet… (not broken yet…)
