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Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Ink on my wrists
Names of the ones they dismissed
I remember every exit wound
Every whispered "you'll be dead soon"
Bottles on the nightstand, lined like graves
Screens full of headlines, none say my name
Breath tasting like iron and fear
Still here
Still here
[Chorus]
This is wreckcore, baby, I break then roar
Turn every scar to a cracked church door
You can beat my body
You can cage my voice
But I burn like a riot
I am not your choice
This is wreckcore, baby, I bleed then soar
From the ash, from the trash on the killing floor
You can cut my volume
You can flood my sky
But a soul on fire
Doesn't learn to die (nah)
[Verse 2]
Police tape like yellow thorns
Around my block, around my thoughts
Mama praying in another room
For a God that never walks
In the hallway where they took my friend
Hands up high, still a dead-end
Every echo screaming "comply"
We replied "survive"
We replied "alive"
[Chorus]
This is wreckcore, baby, I break then roar
Turn every bruise to a cracked church door
You can choke my breathing
You can cross my face
But I rise like a siren
Haunting every place
This is wreckcore, baby, I bleed then soar
From the ash, from the trash on the killing floor
You can close your border
You can blind your eye
But a soul on fire
Doesn't learn to die (doesn't learn to die)
[Bridge]
I am not your victim
I am not your threat
I am every promise
You ain't killed yet (hey)
All my ghosts in the pit keep chanting
"Live, live, live" like a war drum ranting
If I crack, if I snap, if I fall to my knees
Every fracture spells "set us free"
[Chorus]
This is wreckcore, baby, I break then roar
Turn every scar to a cracked church door
You can stain my future
With your ancient lies
But my throat is a thunder
Tearing up your sky
This is wreckcore, baby, I bleed then soar
From the ash, from the trash on the killing floor
You can burn my body
You can script my end
But a soul on fire
Always burns again (always burns again)
Details
GeneratedFeb 24, 2026
Duration2:39
LanguageEnglish
Style
rap, Distorted dark trap with mangled 808s, glitchy percussion cuts, and detuned pads; female vocals shifting from low mutter to ragged belt. Verses ride a sparse, menacing groove with bit-crushed accents and abrupt stop-start edits; chorus explodes with layered shouts, clipped vocal chops, and bass swells that feel like a rising riot. Final section strips to voice and distant feedback, leaving a raw, open wound in the mix., soul, raw, glitch, female vocals
Credits
Prompt by
PapiSloth
PapiSlothModelAria v5
Prompt
Wreckcore: dark trap stitched with glitch, blood, and raw confession. It’s survival music. It’s protest music. It’s the sound of a soul on fire that refuses to be silenced. Female vocals
