a really old note of mine that I am looking at again

[Cold open] Right now, I’m acting like I can’t lose, trying to make a living out of bad news. Every second day I get the bad mood, so every time I say I’m fine, it’s only half true. I keep thinking if I say it like I’ve learnt from where it hurt, then the mess becomes a lesson and the lesson makes it work. I used to think the past was something I could drag around and use, like if I wore it on my shoulders then it counted as the proof. Funny how a bad year turns into a war story, tell it with a grin like it was always doing more for me. But nobody gives a fuck, man, everybody’s got their thing. Some are late on rent, some are late to ask for help again. And I been high enough to vanish, low enough to land bad, woke up with my phone dead, mouth dry, head cracked. Work starts at ten, and there’s songs I never finished sitting open on my desktop like a thing I’m meant to fix, next to names I never call because I hate the little wince in my voice when I admit I’m not as good as I insist. So I laugh it off in public, make a joke and let it pass. If it happened, then it happened. Nothing happens in the past. [Chorus] What about the future? What if you crash? What if you can’t claw back? What if this don’t last? I don’t know. I don’t know. I been running forward with my head turned back. Let it pass. Let it pass. Nothing happens in the past. [Verse 2] I keep waking up late with the day half spent, same stale air, same ash in the tray again. Coffee gone cold with the taste half left, and a take from last night that I hate half less. Playback hissing through a blown little speaker, one line works, then the whole thing leaves ya. Little cheap desk with the screws getting weaker, big dreams balanced on an IKEA sleeper. Everybody else looks so well adjusted, clean shirt, lunch packed, hell, must be something. I’m in last night’s socks with the rent still pending, trying to make art out of “well, fuck it.” And it sounds pretty sad when I say it that clear, so I dress it up sideways and make it sound weird. Same trick, new grin, little stagelight fear, like, “nah, I’m all good, great fuckin’ year.” I had dreams so big they got stuck in the hallway, had to turn sideways just to let myself past. Now I’m scared if I stop long enough to look at them, I’ll see cardboard corners painted up like glass. But I’m not above it. I want the nice shoes and the rent paid. I want a night where my card goes through and I don’t have to check the next day. I want to be discovered in a way that asks me nothing, like a genius in a film with the rent paid offscreen. I want the big applause, just not the bit where I believe it, cause then I’d have to want it in a way that can be seen. And that’s gross, isn’t it? Needing things. Having hopes. Much cooler being broke with a code nobody knows. Much cleaner in the corner, making art for the drawer, then acting all offended when it doesn’t open doors. [Chorus] What about the future? What if you crash? What if you can’t claw back? What if this don’t last? I don’t know. I don’t know. I been running forward with my head turned back. Let it pass. Let it pass. Nothing happens in the past. [Bridge] What about a fallback? Yeah, good point. Shit. What if this don’t work? What if that’s it? What if you get older and the dream stays young? What if everybody claps but you still feel dumb? That’s the past talking future with a mouth full of glass. If it happened, then it happened. Nothing happens in the past. [Final Chorus] [raw, bigger, more melodic] What about the future? Let it come fast. What if I can’t claw back? What if this don’t last? I don’t know. I don’t know. But the fear’s got my voice Lucky that I talk too fast Let it pass. Let it pass. If it happened, then it happened. Nothing happens in the past. [Trailing off] [Desperate Vocals] What about the future? Yeah, what about that? I been running forward with my head turned back. Let it pass. Let it pass. If it happened, then it happened. Nothing happens in the past.