Unraveling at the Edges

▶ Play this song to follow along.

The S)

[Verse 1]

Calluses bleed on the fretboard wood,

Tried to play it off like the notes sounded good.

Finger slipped on the bend, hit a sour note instead—

Smiled at the drummer, "Yeah, I meant to do that,"

While my throat closed tight, and the room turned red.

Told the sound guy, "Levels are fine,"

As the hum in my chest hit a feedback whine.

Pretended the silence after the last chord died

Was just the reverb decaying...

Not the sound of something inside

Finally admitting it hurt to hide.

[Pre]

Yeah, I wiped the sweat, called it "stage glow,"

Said the shaking was just the amp's low-end throb.

Lied to the mirror, lied to the mic,

Lied to the ghost of the song I wanted to strike...

[Chorus]

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(That string went slack, and I felt the pull)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(Like a cymbal cracked, but I kept on playin' the dull)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(This ain't just a bad take—I'm frayin' at the seam)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(No, the note's not bent... I am.)

[Verse 2]

Took the call from the label: "Pass on the Ep."

Said "No worries!" while my coffee went cold.

Scrolled through the comments: "'Meh. Been done.'

'Needs more fire.'" Felt the old familiar burn—

Not the amp's heat, but the ice in my chest where the hope used to turn.

Tuned my guitar for the tenth time today,

Each turn of the peg a lie I would pay:

"It's just the humidity... just the string's age...

Just a rough patch... just another damn stage..."

While my hands remembered the weight of the wood

Not as a tool, but as the only thing

That understood how hard I stood

In the light, pretending I wasn't breaking.

[Pre]

Called it "passion" when I missed my rent,

Called it "dedication" when my voice went bent.

Called it "art" when I couldn't feel my face—

Just another scar in this bitter race...

[Chorus]

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(That string went slack, and I felt the pull)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(Like a cymbal cracked, but I kept on playin' the dull)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(This ain't just a bad take—I'm frayin' at the seam)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(No, the note's not bent... I am.)

[Bridge]

(Voice starts steady, cracks on "hurt")

You know the worst part?

It ain't the one-star review.

It ain't the van breaking down in Ohio.

It ain't even the dreams that got shelved.

It's the lying.

The lying to your bandmates when you say "I'm good"

While your hands won't stop shaking

After you nailed that solo

Because it wasn't enough.

The lying to your reflection

When you wipe the smudged mascara

(From crying in the stall before doors open)

And grin like you're ready to conquer.

The lying to the song itself—

Whispering "I got you"

As you butcher the bridge again,

Knowing it deserves better than this tired,

Frayed-at-the-ends version of you

That keeps showing up...

Pretending the cracks don't show

When the spotlight hits.

(Voice drops to a raw whisper, almost spoken)

I can't pretend...

I just... I can't pretend it don't hurt...

[Bridge]

(Guitar picks a simple, unresolved pattern)

I can't pretend...

(The silence after the lie...)

I can't pretend...

(The weight of the unsaid truth...)

I can't pretend...

(The tuning peg slipping again...)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me...

(Guitar strums a dissonant chord, lets it ring)

...iiiiii...

(Hold the "i" on the word "hurt" – let it waver, break slightly into a strained head voice)

...iiiiii...

(Voice cracks openly on the next "i", pure vulnerability)

...iiiiii...

(Guitar finds a single, clear, sustained note – not resolved, but true)

...iiiiii...

(Let the note hang, then fade into the sound of a slow, shaky exhale...

Followed by the faintest sound of a guitar string being gently, deliberately, retuned.)

[Outro]

(Drums: soft brushes on snare. Bass: a simple, grounding root note. Guitar: open, ringing chords.)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(No more lies in the tuning, no more lies in the smile)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(Just the wood, the wire, the breath, and the while)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(Sometimes the bravest note is the one that says: This part sucks. This part hurts.)

I can't pretend it don't hurt me iiiiiii...

(Not the end of the song... just the truth

Before we try again.)

(Final chord rings – major, but unresolved. Fades slowly on the sound of fingertips

lightly, patiently, finding the right place on the string...)

...iiiiii...

(Silence.)