The Sounds of Pain

[Verse 1]
Cold cab window
Rain on the glass again
You say it’s nothing
But your silence cuts my skin
Half-read messages
Typing, then backspace
You pull your hoodie up
Like you’re hiding from my face
[Chorus]
These are the sounds of pain
Your key in the door, then you’re leaving
Every slammed drawer, every deep breath you’re keeping
The floorboard creak when you pace at 3 a.m.
Yeah, these are the sounds of pain
Your laugh turning sharp when you see me
Every short word, every eye-roll you’re screaming
I hear everything you don’t say
In the sounds of pain
[Verse 2]
Uber on standby
You scrolling streets to run
Arguing softly
So the neighbors think we’re fine
You wear your distance
Like that jacket I once owned
You give me half a hug
Then stare right through my phone
[Chorus]
These are the sounds of pain
Your key in the door, then you’re leaving
Every slammed drawer, every deep breath you’re keeping
The floorboard creak when you pace at 3 a.m.
Yeah, these are the sounds of pain
Your laugh turning sharp when you see me
Every short word, every eye-roll you’re screaming
I hear everything you don’t say
In the sounds of pain
[Drum Solo]
[drums tumble into rapid fills, hats stutter and choke, brief drops into silence before crashing back in]
[Bridge]
You used to hum in the kitchen
Now it’s just plates on the sink
You used to sing in the shower
Now it’s just water and me overthinking (oh)
I’m counting every little echo
On these thin apartment walls
’Cause I can tell the way you’re leaving
By the way your footsteps fall
[Guitar Solo]
[guitar bends and wails over a held chord, climbing, then choking off into a slow, aching phrase]
[Chorus]
These are the sounds of pain
Your key in the door, then you’re leaving
Every slammed drawer, every deep breath you’re keeping
The floorboard creak when you pace at 3 a.m.
Yeah, these are the sounds of pain
Your laugh turning sharp when you see me
Every short word, every eye-roll you’re screaming
I hear everything you don’t say
In the sounds of pain (oh)
I hear everything you don’t say
In the sounds of pain

rap, Moody NYC trap-pop fusion with male vocals, airy R&B chords over tight sub-heavy drums. Verses ride a sparse half-time groove; chorus swells with stacked harmonies and shimmering synth pads. Mid-song drum solo built from tumbling fills and stuttered hats, then a searing reverb-soaked guitar solo over a held chord bed before a final hook reprise., pop