歌詞

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