VERSE 1 — DROWNPROOF callback
I learned to float when the world tried to drag me down,
held my breath through the panic, refused to drown.
The quiet taught me strength I didn’t know I had —
the stillness in the deep where the fear turns bad.
I survived the silence, now I listen when it speaks.
VERSE 2 — Salt in My Lungs callback
Salt burned my lungs, but I kept breathing slow.
Every wave hit harder, but I didn’t let it show.
Pressure made a diamond out of everything I broke.
If the sea wanted me gone, it should’ve taken me whole.
I rose anyway — stubborn, scarred, awake.
CHORUS — the unifying thread
The water remembers every version of me.
The boy who sank, the man who learned to breathe.
The storms I swallowed, the walls I built high —
the undertow calling, but I still defy.
I’m not done fighting, not done changing shape.
The ocean knows my name — but it won’t choose my fate.
VERSE 3 — Low Tide / High Walls callback
Low tide showed the bones I tried to hide.
Ghosts in the sand, truth I couldn’t deny.
I rebuilt myself from the wreckage and the ache,
stacked walls from driftwood only I could make.
Not fear — just boundaries carved from survival.
VERSE 4 — Undertow callback
The undertow whispered like a memory I forgot,
pulling at my ankles, reminding me what I’m not.
But I’ve danced with the dark and learned its pull,
I move with the current now, steady and full.
It knows my weakness, but it knows my strength too.
VERSE 5 — The saga continues
So I stand in the surf, half myth, half man,
a survivor shaped by every wave that slammed.
The story isn’t over — the sea hasn’t had its say.
There’s deeper water waiting, further storms on the way.
And I’m ready for all of it — I’m not done yet.
Nightshiftradio
