I’m a Cake Eater
[Intro]
Breathe in the breath.
Take it in.
Breathe it out.
Breathe in.
Let it go.
Let it.
Let it.
Still… it lingers.
[Verse 1]
It’s like a thick layer of mud
caked onto my sagging heart.
Heavy.
Clinging.
Because if I feel it,
it might swallow me first.
So I should stuff it down.
If I swallow it,
I can stuff it down.
Down, down,
to the very pit
of my being.
[Bridge — inquiry]
But wait —
the pit starts asking questions.
Better get curious.
Let’s get clear about what it is.
Is it a thought? Is it a feeling?
Is it a habit? Is it a way of being?
Is it identity? Is it safety? Is it comfort?
Do I need it —
or does it need me?
Does it even exist
beyond my reflection?
[Pre-chorus]
I’m searching for lightness
while lingering in the shadows.
So bring light to the pit.
Let it shine.
[Chorus]
And then I notice something strange —
I’m not swallowing the cake whole.
I’m eating it.
I’m a cake eater.
Not the whole cake at once,
just the dust.
The crumbs.
The little pieces
that fall away
from the larger thing.
[Verse 2]
Maybe that’s how this works —
not swallowing the whole darkness,
not pretending it isn’t there.
Just noticing the crumbs,
letting curiosity
pick them up
one at a time.
[Outro]
This body… it gets heavy.
But maybe freedom
isn’t throwing the cake away.
Maybe it’s learning
how to eat the dust.
(repeat, fading)
I’m a cake eater.
Just the dust.
Just the dust.