Текст песни
Who never mixed freedom with chronic insomnia
Just four walls and a barely breathing core
Sun will rise like a washed‑out old cinema
Where you’re just a glint in somebody’s eyes before
In wordless hush, where even echoes
Are too shy to speak my name
I’m left with no right to return again
To that all‑you‑can‑sin buffet of shame
I’ve cut the fireworks from my days
See how the match shakes in my hand
It might ignite one more insane parade
Or be the flame in your first candle stand
Lay your days on the table, not bottles and glass
No discounts, no mercy, no staged regret
Old demons ping, “How you been? Come past”
“Thanks, maybe later” — that’s all they get
I don’t trust my cravings, they blur and they lie
They kept mixing thirst with venomous draught
Now when something screams, “Living’s a crime”
I check if no one’s pulling me back to that swamp
On a diet from borrowed roles
From sugar‑scripted, easy lines
If tomorrow they ask me who I’ve become —
I’ll say the one who chose himself, minus the borrowed shine
I’ve cut the fireworks from my days
See how the match shakes in my hand
It might ignite one more insane parade
Or be the flame in your first candle stand
