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Lyrics
Verse 1
Myranda’s been awake since the dark
Counting cracks in the ceiling like stars
The day she lost her job still echoes
In the drawer with unpaid letters and hope notes
Coffee rings on a wooden nightstand
Promises she never quite planned
They said, “It’s temporary, you’ll be fine”
But time feels cruel when it won’t rewind
Pre-Chorus
The house hums low like it knows her name
Every clock ticks out her shame
She swore she’d rise with the sun today
But the bed begged her to stay
Chorus
So she bed rots, soft as a secret
Sheets like snow she’s buried in it
The world moves loud, she moves slow
Learning how to let go
Yeah she bed rots, ghosts in her head
Old versions of who she said she’d be instead
Lost her job, lost her way
This is where Myranda stays
Verse 2
Phone lights up but she won’t look
Every message feels like a hook
Friends say “rest,” but rest feels thin
When you don’t know where you fit back in
Her mirror knows she’s trying her best
Even when she never gets dressed
She’s not lazy, she’s just worn
From carrying futures that never were born
Pre-Chorus
She whispers plans she’s scared to say
Like they’ll leave if she gives them shape
So she hides them under covers deep
Where heartbreak goes to sleep
Chorus
So she bed rots, breathing slow
Letting the ache come and go
Midnight knows her by heart
Every thought tears her apart
Yeah she bed rots, counting years
Of almosts, maybes, quiet fears
Lost her job, lost her flame
This is where Myranda stays
Bridge (folklore hush)
Maybe healing looks like staying still
Maybe strength don’t always feel like will
Maybe rock bottom’s not the end
Just the place where you stop pretending
And someday she’ll laugh at this room
The way you laugh at old wounds
But tonight the hurt gets to stay
She doesn’t have to be brave
Final Chorus
So she bed rots, but she survives
Another night, another life
The moon keeps watch, the sky doesn’t judge
She’s learning how to be enough
Details
GeneratedJan 11, 2026
Duration3:36
LanguageEnglish
Style
sad-girl, folklore × Midnights energy version—quiet, poetic, lonely rooms, 3 a.m. thoughts, no punchlines, just ache.
Credits
Prompt by
KylePatrick
KylePatrickModelAria v5
