Verse 1]
There’s a crack in my doorway where the cold air creeps,
Where the past keeps knocking even when I’m asleep.
I built this house on habits I should’ve buried deep,
Now the floorboards groan with secrets they keep.
Attic full of echoes, they rattle the beams,
Old ghosts pacing like they’re stitching my seams.
I try to outrun them but they know my stride,
I'm so slick I slide I don't walk I glide
It's either Almost we'll get him next time and oh helll we tried but he's so slick slides
---
[Hook]
This is the Pitch black porch blues, ,I go get that click clack porch broom, sweep the porch floor
Where I wrestle with the shadows I used to call friends of mine
I’m a storm in a bottle with a cracked‑glass spine,
Two white racing stripes up the middle of this face of mine
.
--
across tthe yard full of pit bulls and patchy spots-I learned to love those 3 cinder blocks
Lead you to the front door of the spot
the first one cracked and the third one rocks
[Verse 2]
I’m the wild one, that the wildest one
Dont want, to wild with I let thr wild out and they keep their wild in I'm dialed in
In the hardware section isle 10
Ear to ear, shit eating, grin smilimg
Says I'm off the chain immature and childish
Burned down every good thing I tried to fix
You whippin my ass? You have a better chance, puckering up and kissin my ass
get back with ya punk, bitch ass
quick as a pimp hands
before you know it I've done spit in ya face and been up side ya head
Women drift like the wood grain paneling
Leave fingerprints on the wallpaper, then nothing at all.
Bedroom’s a bunker ,☆,☆•☆
Where the mirror don’t flinch when I break down slow,
It just watches like it already knows.
---
[Bridge]
Yeah, I’m carved from the dark but I’m learning the light
heats in a vise and it hurts inside
A bluesman walking through a long, long night.
Every scar on my chest is a lesson Iearned,
Every fall is a page in the book I burned.
---
[Hook]
This is that pitch black porch blues, where the night don’t end,
Where I wrestle with the shadows I used to call friends.
I’m a storm in a bottle with a cracked‑glass spine,
For the last mile I, been watching you from this flipped up blind
[Outro]
So if you see me on the steps with the porch light low,
Just know I’m fighting my battles in the undertow.
This house ain’t holy, but it’s mine to rebuild, .
