[Intro – spoken, almost emotionless] I used to look for something. A reason. A direction. A version of myself that finally made sense. I kept moving. I thought movement meant progress. Apparently not. [Verse 1] I wake up. I breathe. I make coffee. Another day wearing yesterday's face. Nothing hurts. That's the problem. Nothing feels good either. No joy. No fire. No real desire to become anything. Just this strange, quiet distance between me and everything I do. I used to have questions. Now I mostly have habits. [Beat enters] I changed the road. Changed the plans. Changed the way I talked. The things I wanted. The person I thought I was supposed to be. Every version felt temporary. Every answer grew another question. So I kept going. Because stopping felt worse. [Hook – spoken/rhythmic] NO ARRIVAL. NO FINAL FORM. NO LIGHT AT THE END. JUST ANOTHER ROAD PRETENDING TO BE THE ANSWER. NO ARRIVAL. I KEEP MOVING. NOT BECAUSE I KNOW WHERE I'M GOING. BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP. [Verse 2 – faster] I searched in noise. In silence. In work. In sleepless nights. In cigarettes. In screens. In empty rooms. In every new idea that felt important for approximately twenty minutes. I built things. Destroyed things. Started over. Called it growth. Maybe it was. Maybe I just got better at changing the wallpaper inside the same room. [Pause] And the worst part? I'm not even angry anymore. I think I ran out. [Bridge – quiet] There was a time I wanted to feel everything. Now I'd settle for feeling something. Anything. A spark. A reason. A stupid little moment that doesn't need to become a lesson. But everything becomes a lesson eventually. Everything becomes something I have to understand. And I'm tired of understanding. [Music fractures] Maybe I don't need to find myself. Maybe there was never anything lost. Maybe I just kept looking for a version of me that doesn't exist. [Explosion – raw spoken] SO WHAT AM I CHASING? WHO AM I TRYING TO BECOME? HOW MANY ROADS DO I HAVE TO WALK BEFORE I ADMIT I'M JUST WALKING? [Silence] [Verse 3 – restrained] The strange thing is... Tomorrow I'll probably do it again. Wake up. Coffee. Move. Think. Build. Destroy. Repeat. Another road. Another version. Another attempt to become someone I can finally recognize. And maybe that's the joke. Maybe the journey never ends. Maybe that's not profound. Maybe it's just exhausting. [Final Hook] NO ARRIVAL. NO DESTINATION. NO GRAND REVELATION. JUST ME GETTING TIRED OF LOOKING FOR ME. NO ARRIVAL. STILL MOVING. STILL SEARCHING. STILL HERE. [Outro – almost whispered] Maybe one day I won't need to find myself. Maybe one day I'll just stop looking. [Pause] ... I wonder what that would feel like. [Final hit] NO ARRIVAL.
