Lyrics
Drop a good song now I know what they're expecting
Expressing the pressure to deliver a popular song as expected by others.
But it didn't make me better it just worsened my depression
Acknowledging that creating music didn't improve mental health but exacerbated depression.
No it's a real bitch living up to an image
Reflecting on the difficulty of living up to a crafted image.
And all the fucks you used to give they slowly start to diminish
Noting a decrease in caring about things that were once significant.
Every bar you write becomes a sprint to the finish
Highlighting the pressure and speed in producing each lyrical line.
And I'm a fucking self cynic, could have used those wasted minutes
Acknowledging self-criticism and regret for time wasted.
No you feel worn down like you've pushed it to the limits
Feeling exhausted and worn out, having pushed oneself to the limits.
Let the beat carry the song you don't listen to my lyrics
Suggesting that the focus should be on the music, not the lyrical content.
When they're dead and gone and you can't ever speak again
Reflecting on the importance of expressing oneself before it's too late.
You start to think of all the things that you wish you could have said
Regretting missed opportunities to communicate important thoughts.
Learning to forgive forget and most of all regret
Encouraging forgiveness, forgetting, and embracing regret as part of personal growth.
And start to question all the things that you said but never meant
Questioning the authenticity of past statements that lacked genuine intent.
Look at all the pictures and the letters that you saved
Reviewing nostalgic items, such as pictures and letters, that hold sentimental value.
Old sentimental shit that you could never throw away
Emphasizing the difficulty of parting with meaningful possessions.
In the pictures you can see a real familiar face
Recognizing familiar faces in old pictures.
And on the letters there's my name the same one written on my grave
Connecting personal identity to the name on saved letters, possibly referencing mortality.
Then you start to wonder why my time was up so soon
Contemplating the untimely end of the speaker's life and questioning its reasons.
Going packing up my things and start to clean inside my room
Packing belongings and cleaning as a metaphor for preparing for the end.
You'll notice that it gets a little colder in the air
Noticing a change in the atmosphere after a departure.
Let some time pass by it's like I wasn't even there
Reflecting on the fading impact and presence of the speaker with time.
When they're dead and gone and you can't ever speak again
Reiteration of the importance of expressing oneself before it's too late.
You start to think of all the things that you wish you could have said
Revisiting thoughts on missed opportunities and unspoken words.
Learning to forgive forget and most of all regret
Encouraging the process of forgiveness, forgetting, and embracing regret.
And start to question all the things that you said but never meant
Questioning the authenticity of past statements that lacked genuine intent (repeated).
Comment