BaC

[Verse 1]
Somewhere along the way I lost my mental health,  
Took a leap of faith but never trusted in myself.  
Now I’m learning how to ask for help  
believing in me.  
Sobered up and split in two,  
one half drowning, one half pulling through—  
and the one who numbs the pain  
still copes better with reality.  
It breaks me quietly.

[Hook 1]
I’m the ball and you’re the chain,  
pulling me back down the path I came.  
Every step I take, I taste your name,  
and I don’t know who’s holding who.

[Verse 2]
I might relapse,  
fall back  
into the voice that whispers in the cracks—  
the void I left behind  
still calling me.  
I lied to feel the high that killed  
the part of me that used to steer the wheel.  
Now every time I try to heal,  
I drift and disappear.

[Hook 2]
I’m the ball and you’re the chain,  
dragging me deep through the same old pain.  
Every time I try to cut the weight,  
you cling like fear that I might break you too.

[Verse 3 - Doubled voices]
He whispers, “Come back home, you’re tired,  
you don’t have to fight the night.”  
Says the darkness feels like comfort  
when the world burns far too bright.  
Promises the numb will save me,  
that the fall is soft, the cost is slight.  
And I hate that I still listen  
when he calls me from the quiet of the night.

[Bridge]
I keep trying to outrun shadows,  
but they grow when I turn away.  
Maybe healing isn’t letting go—  
maybe it’s learning how to stay.

[Verse 4]
I’m the ball and he’s the chain,  
he’s the one who wants to run away.  
But you can’t escape a feeling  
when it crawls up through your spine.  
Therapist says it gets easier,  
but healing always steals your time—  
time from friends, time from family,  
time from the man I used to be.  
Addiction is a masterpiece  
signed by guilt and grief.
...
And if ever I find the ladder,
I’m climbing back to me.

[Chorus 3]
I’m the ball and you’re the chain,  
but maybe we’re carved from the same old ache.  
Maybe I’m the one who locked the gate,  
and you’re just doing what I taught you to.

[Outro]
And maybe there’s a light that waits,  
somewhere past the heavy days.  
Maybe I can learn to hold my weight,  
without the fear of losing me.  

If every night can break to morning,  
maybe I can break and still be free.  
I’m not the man I was before—  
but I’m becoming who I’m meant to be.

melancholic, acoustic indie folk, dark tone, sad