Lyrics

Have you ever sunk without the sea,
no waves, no tide, just gravity?
A weight that whispers, “Stay right here,”
so deep below, even screams can’t hear.
Your limbs like anchors, breath on loan,
the fight for air becomes your own
private war, a thrashing grace—
until surrender strokes your face.
You stop kicking.
You stop clawing.
You make peace with the dark,
with the soft, slow falling.
There’s a lull in the panic, a calm in the bleed,
and the silence tastes almost like what you need.
You think—this is it, and oddly, it fits,
like a song you forgot but your soul still hums it.
But then—
lungs betray the deal you made.
A cough, a gasp, a rupture, a blade
of light breaks in,
and you’re pulled back through—
to monitors, murmurs, and ceilings too blue.
You wake.
You rise.
Sort of.
Not really.
Alive, but not always willingly.
And some days the sunrise feels like a gift,
like maybe the tide gave you one more lift.
You drink your coffee, you feel the sun—
you think, maybe I’ll stay… just for someone.
But other days?
The breath tastes wrong.
Your name feels borrowed.
Your skin too long.
You curse the hands that reeled you back,
resent the rope, the rescue, the lack
of final silence
you almost touched—
when the water held you
and it didn’t hurt
as much.
He has….