Intro (spoken, low) I said it was just to take the edge off. Didn’t know I was dulling everything. Verse 1 It started casual, nothing loud, just something to quiet the crowd in my head when the lights went low, when the silence started to show. I didn’t want chaos, I wanted mute, a softer version of the truth. Something to blur the sharper parts, slow the racing in my heart. One drink turned into routine, not chasing highs — just in between. Not falling apart, not feeling fine, just suspended outside my mind. I told myself I had control, measured the line, played the role. But mornings started lasting long, and the mirror felt slightly wrong. Not dramatic, not headline news — just slowly learning how to lose pieces of me I didn’t see slipping through quietly. Hook I don’t wanna numb it anymore, don’t wanna lock another door. If it hurts, let it hurt for real — I’m tired of not knowing how I feel. No more fog to make it light, no more borrowed peace at night. If I’m gonna heal, I’ll do it clear — even if the quiet’s hard to hear. Verse 2 It wasn’t the party, it wasn’t the scene, it was the gap in between. The seconds alone when I had to sit with thoughts I didn’t wanna admit. I told myself it helped me sleep, but sleep came shallow, not deep. I said it made the noise behave, but really I was digging a grave for the version of me that could stand still without something in the system to fill the empty space I didn’t trust — that space was asking too much. One night I skipped it just to see what the silence would do to me. It didn’t crush me, didn’t win — it just asked me to sit with it. And sitting hurt — but it was mine. Not blurred, not softened, not redesigned. It was heavy, raw, unfair — but at least I was there. Bridge (quiet, steady) I’m not stronger than temptation. I’m just tired of negotiation. Tired of saying “just tonight,” tired of waking up not right. Final Hook I don’t wanna numb it anymore, don’t wanna live half-aware. If I’m gonna face what’s real, I’ll face it sober, feel by feel. No more fog to dull the edge, no more chemical privilege. If tomorrow’s hard, I’ll meet it clear — because I’m still here. Outro (spoken) It’s not a speech. It’s not a streak. It’s just a choice I’ll make again next week. Clear enough to try

Last call