[Intro] They called me sunshine — guess the forecast changed. Grin turned blade when the sky went strange. I used to chase dreams through the trees at dawn, Now I chase ghosts of the things I’ve lost. [Verse 1] Bright-eyed kid with a fishing rod, Looking for a father who played at god. Thought the world was wide, full of open trails, Didn’t see the blood hidden under the tales. Killua at my side, yeah, he kept me steady, But grief don’t knock — it kicks in heavy. When Kite dropped, something tore loose, Nen turned venom, rage uncaged the noose. This ain’t a game of hunter and prey, This is a boy letting childhood decay. Every punch carried more than weight — It carried the scream of a twisted fate. [Hook] Rock break bone. Paper cut destiny. Scissors carve deep where it’s testing me. I don’t swing fair — I swing to end, When hope collapses, mercy bends. [Verse 2] I gambled years for a single strike, Threw away tomorrow just to feel that might. Body grown tall but the soul stayed cracked, Power ain’t growth — it’s a soul attacked. I saw her kneel, but I didn’t care, All I saw was Kite not there. Every blow was a question screamed, “What’s the cost of a broken dream?” I wasn’t strong — I was hollow inside, Filling the void with a vengeance high. And when it was done and the dust went still, I stood there empty… but drunk on will. [Bridge] Killua saw it before I did — The light gone dark in the eyes of a kid. He reached for me but I pulled away, Too deep in the storm I chose that day. I said I was fine. I wasn’t. I said I was right. I wasn’t. I just wanted the pain to match what I felt — So I burned myself. [Hook] Rock break bone. Paper scorch fate. Scissors split clean through love and hate. I don’t fight for glory, I fight to cope — A boy who traded his heart for hope. [Verse 3] You call me hero? Don’t say that word. Heroes don’t smile while their morals burn. I crossed a line and I knew it too, But rage felt realer than what was true. I hurt the one who stood by me, Turned friendship into debris. And that’s the weight I carry still — Not the kill… but the cost of will. I ain’t proud. I ain’t clean. I ain’t the kid from Greed Island scenes. But I’m still here, scarred but whole, Learning how to stitch a fractured soul. [Outro] So don’t call me savior, don’t call me pure. I’m what happens when grief matures. Rock. Paper. Scissors — simple rule. But vengeance makes a monster of a fool.

Scissors to the Soul (Gon)