[VERSE 1 — fragile, slipping, poetic disorientation]
I trace the edges of my mind,
But the lines keep bending out of place.
Static whispers flood the halls,
And every echo wears my face.
A matchstick memory flares and dies,
Leaving smoke where thoughts should be.
I’m pulling threads I shouldn’t touch,
But they’re the only parts of me.
⸻
[CHORUS — soaring, tragic, falling-apart confession]
I’m spiraling down,
Like a secret I was never meant to keep.
I’m coming undone,
Falling through the cracks in everything I speak.
If I crash and burn,
Let the ashes tell the story I outgrew—
’Cause losing control
Feels a lot like finding truth.
⸻
[INTERLUDE — soft, drifting, dissolving clarity]
And every little fracture
Learns to call itself a friend…
I guess even broken pieces
Find a way to break again.
Break again and again
Again and again
Break again and again
⸻
[VERSE 2 — darker, slipping further, riddled metaphors]
The floor keeps breathing under me,
With a heartbeat I can’t trace.
I try to hold the world still,
But my hands forget their place.
There’s a riddle in my ribcage,
And the answer shakes my bones.
If sanity’s a kingdom,
Then I’m begging at its throne.
⸻
[INTERLUDE — warped, dreamlike, descending]
And all the lights around me
Start forgetting how to glow…
Funny how the brightest colors
Are the first ones letting go.
Letting go again
Again and again
Letting go again
⸻
[VERSE 3 — unraveling fully, final slip]
The truth unspools like fraying rope,
Too thin to carry all my weight.
I’m tumbling through my own design,
Caught between surrender and fate.
If I’m a burning satellite,
Then the sky becomes my grave…
I’m learning that destruction
Is just freedom I misgave.
⸻
[INSTRUMENTAL BREAK — heavy, crashing, spiraling riff, Thunderous, syncopated drums.
Down-tuned riffs swell, collapse, disorient.
A low, warped synth pulses like a failing heartbeat]
⸻
[SHORT BRIDGE — soft, hopeless, final snap]
If I’m losing my mind…
Maybe it was never mine to lose.
⸻
[FINAL CHORUS — bigger, aching, resigned fall]
I’m spiraling down,
Like a truth I was never meant to speak.
I’m coming undone,
Breaking at the edges where I’m weak.
If I crash and burn,
Let the embers show the parts I never knew—
’Cause losing control
Is the last thing tying me to you.
[Instrumental break — slow-paced jazz instrumental break, Muted trumpet slides in with a melancholy melody, Brushes whisper across a snare in slow 6/8 time, Upright bass walks softly beneath, while a warm, tremolo electric guitar paints drifting chords, The room feels smoky, dim, late-night, a spiraling mind suspended in a quiet jazz haze then the saxophone fades into a single, long not then disappears like breath on cold glass].
Again….
Atlantica
