I sneak the outlawed night into my coat
Breathing small, like I’m hiding a note
No voice, just a soundless “snn”—
A blade with no edge pressing in
Morals and logic? Rented gear
Lined up neatly on my corpus callosum’s tier
Fake “righteousness” past its expiration
Hyde shows up wearing my face, no invitation
Jekyll clocks out with no goodbyes
Behind the mask, a secret sign flies
“All I ever wanted was to be earnest,”
Was it for society? No—never felt that purpose
Neon rain and the fridge light’s glow
2 a.m. junk poetry, soft and low
No answers here, but meaning thrives
So I filed it all in my “self-drive.”
Kindness is saline, drip by drip
Warm and shaky, a leaking script
Here comes the smile of a “now-believer,”
Lights flicker—my vision’s a deceiver
If I must die, let it not be from kindness-boy
I’d rather be stroked by indifference-girl’s ploy
The design of goodwill changes to fit
And the kindest blow is always legit
I call for Jekyll—Hyde’s asleep
A reflex smile hides the feelings I keep
In this brain-theater, the lead’s gone mute
Mr. Pituitary’s playing the flute?
Social protocol, a broken wire
Pretending to function while gasping for fire
Untouched good will—yeah, that’s the scariest part
The “I understand” types? Straight through the heart
Neon rain and the fridge light’s hum
2 a.m. junk poems softly come
I wrote what had no name to say
But why won’t it ever find its way?
Veins of kindness, a dripline trace
Even thin lines sometimes embrace
But who shows up right after that shot?
A smiling player—mask on, plot hot
“I’m fine,” I chant like a warding spell
But my soul’s already checked out well
Acting the script, correctness on cue
Even my breath, I hand over to you
Days I chose not to be laughed away
Bit by bit, my will shaved each day
“If you're too earnest, you'll fall apart”—
Why didn’t someone say that at the start?
Under the mask, another face taped tight
Even that one’s cracking tonight
No Jekyll, no Hyde in the morning sun
Just another mask before the day’s begun
You really are cruel, dear Mister Pituitary One
Neon rain and the fridge light’s breath
2 a.m. junk poetry in quiet death
No answers here, but meanings scream—
Filed away in my ego’s dream
- Lyricist
Shuka / Room no.38
- Composer
Shuka / Room no.38
- Producer
Shuka / Room no.38
- Bass Guitar
Shuka / Room no.38
- Keyboards
Shuka / Room no.38
- Synthesizer
Shuka / Room no.38
- Piano
Shuka / Room no.38
- Other Instruments
Shuka / Room no.38
Listen to Pituitary Blues by Shuka / Room no.38
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Pituitary Blues
Shuka / Room no.38
Pituitary Blues explores how kindness, morality, and social correctness function as internal control systems rather than pure virtues.
The song captures the quiet pressure of being good, understanding, and compliant, especially when those traits begin to erase the self.
Set in the stillness of 2 a.m., it observes the mind from a distance, where emotions become protocols and sincerity turns into survival behavior.
This track is not a translation but an independent English original.
It stands as a detached observation of the inner system that governs emotion, restraint, and identity.
Artist Profile
Shuka / Room no.38
shuka / Room no.38. While centered on ballads and J-pop, I focus not on expressing emotions as they are, but on putting into words the process in which emotions waver, break, and distort. Rather than offering healing or answers, I value leaving untouched areas and ambiguous in-between states exactly as they are. I see music not as something that heightens emotion, but as a rhythm through which thought moves forward. I move across genres such as hip hop, rock, EDM, and K-pop, choosing the form that best fits the expression. Sincerity over clarity. The present moment over completion. These sounds and words are not a story of searching for myself, but a record of being alive here and now. The form of each song is not limited to ballads, EDM, or hip hop. Starting from poetry, I choose only the sounds that are necessary. I value the uniqueness of what only I can write.
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