I’m sitting in this room again, same four walls, shadows moving slow, whispering names I can’t call. Ashtrays full of nights I can’t erase, memories bleeding through every empty space. I light another match just to see their face, but it fades into smoke, gone without a trace. I beg in the silence “just give me a fucking sign" but all I get back are these ghosts of mine. They all know my secrets, they all feed my self doubt, they tell me to stay down, never climb out. I’m choking on promises I can’t keep, broken awake when I’m supposed to sleep. (Ayo… I hear you, man… let's talk about it…) I hear you talkin' 'bout the ghosts, the whispers in your dark, your pain and your depression, I ain't gonna act like I can understand your life, but I got an idea about the lyrical expression Of a mind at a war, same damn core, more casualties, store similar obsessions, Got my own demons, a different kind of reasons, but teachin' the same damn lesson! So talkin' 'bout that darkness, I ain't shocked, I ain't intimidated, I ain't gonna run or look away, I just see a fellow soul with the goddamn courage to articulate the things he's gotta say. (But here 's the thing) This ain't the part where a hero swoops in with a perfect battle plan, Nah, this is where a friend just sits next, not stand, extends a hand, and says "I understand" until you let the truth come out, shout out the pain, till every sorry story start to spill, He's the one who's gonna listen 'til you're done, and after that gonna be here still. Can you hear me calling out your name, or does it vanish, like echos, does it sound the same? I’m reaching through fire, through storm, through sin, but the hands I extend never gets pulled in. We’re stuck between the living and the ghosts we keep, memories awake when we’re supposed to sleep. Broken voices calling from the other side, we carry the weight, but nowhere to hide. If I let go, will you hold on tight, or will I be another ghost tonight? "I've walked through the night, with demons as guides, they sit at my table, they never leave my side. They tell me I’m nothing, they tell me I’m done, but their voices feel safer than anyone." (Nah, man, listen to me…) I get it, man, the devil that you know feels safer than the angel you just met, a messy situation, But that familiarity's a fallacy, a fantasy, a fuckin' bullshit fabrication. Those voices ain't your friends, they're just the jailers of the prison that your trauma built with repetition, That ain't "safety," it's a symptom. the pathetic, self-destructive, solitary definition of attrition. So let 'em whisper all their lies, but listen closer when a voice can offer closure, To break you outta that cage, the pain, the dark, the ghost and make you finally get it over! "Haunted eyes in the mirror stare, half alive, but I’m still there. If I collapse, will you catch my fall, or will I just be another ghost after all?" We’re stuck between the living and the ghosts we keep, memories awake when we’re supposed to sleep. Broken voices calling from the other side, we carry the weight, but nowhere to hide. If I let go, will you hold on tight, or will I be another ghost tonight?
