I've always had faith in it
I always believed in it
Dark days I confide in it
Light time celebrate in it
Wrote bars to record in it
Hardly made money off it
Keeps me free innit
I keep it close innit

Cah if I get pissed and I'm feeling down
It listens as I lay on a couch
Divulge informations
My deepest darkest secrets

Emotionally naked
Keeps me sane
stops me from melting down

It's a big part of me
I grew up with it
Kept me of the streets
Gotta pay homage on this beat
Reflect on all the joy that it brought me

I write when I'm all alone
write when I'm travelling home
write when I'm in the zone
I write to channel my moans
Can't live without my microphone

Do you trust me
Do you lust or love me

I wrote on trains
In despair as my feelings change
Wishing for blessings and better days
Hitting drum pads to channel rage
Am I going insane?
Or is this the beginning of the last day?

Don't wanna go through this again
Don't have time for it
I hate to pretend innit
Reluctant sorrys innit
Saying stuff that I don't mean

Anger directed and deflected at me
Rather than assume what's on screen
Look into the mirror what do you see

I see me
What I was then / what I'm going to be
Bullshit, debt and stress free
Writing and recording my therapy
So I don't say fuck you to go walkies

Wander through the valley of uncertainty
Neither late not early

I wish it was straight forward
Life's rather curly
Hence why I stay worldly
Never know where it takes ya
Don't let them cage ya
Or keep ya caged up
Chained up
Dictating who you can speak to
Speak up
Fuck those ultimatums
Make your mind up

You're on timeout...
Don't take me for your friends ex
Who had her crying her eyes out
What's there to lie bout?

I don't lie though
I move where I wanna move
Always tell the truth
I'm private
Don't compare me to next dudes
The focus was you

Is it still you?
Are you forced to choose?
You saw an emoji on the gram what's new?
By the time you called
you assumed
I was on a rendez vous
In a Brick Lane gallery
With Becky the art chick
Or some chick that you've never seen
Who writes a blog about vintage things
Hypothetical

It weren't the Banks show chick
Nor the Portuguese one that you'll never know

I know you can hear me