Lyrics I Lived First.
I didn’t write these to rhyme. I wrote them because they wouldn’t stay in my body.
They were migraines. Jaw locks. Sleepless nights.
They were shame in the throat and screams without permission.
They were bruises before they were bars.
This isn’t poetry. It’s scar documentation.
Every line is a nerve flare. Every song a body memory.
This is trauma transmutation. Somatic spellwork. Featherlock frequency.
I never set out to write music. I set out to survive myself.
And this is what made it through the wreckage.
What I couldn’t say with a smile. What I couldn’t quiet with a journal.
These are songs for the ones who shake when they speak.
Who ghost their friends.
Who carry fire in the gut and call it anxiety.
You’re not broken. Your body is telling the truth in full volume.
I didn’t write these to be catchy.
I wrote them to find the way back to myself.
You can call them lyrics.
I call them evidence I didn’t vanish.
So yeah—read them. Stream them. Feel what stirs.
You don’t owe me anything. I’m just trying to figure myself out.
But if you hear yourself inside these sounds,
just know: I was never writing to be saved.
I was writing to witness what lives.
Welcome to Lyrics I Lived First.
Where survival became sound.
And healing got bass.
I AM ALFIE (THE BLACK PIG INSIDE) – Lyrics
A stuffed pig named Alfie once offered comfort. Now she returns as black flame, bent-eared and unashamed. This is the lyric blog for I Am Alfie (The Black Pig Inside)—a ritual of hunger reclaimed, rage remembered, and softness reborn in mud. Shame becomes drumbeat. Craving becomes law. The girl who danced in secret doesn’t ask anymore. She stomps. She wants. She stays.
Sorry Was a Spell (Bury the Ghost)
This piece cracks open the word “sorry” and lays its ghost to rest. It follows a moment between strangers—a girl at a train station and the version of myself that met her gaze and remembered. The blog carries a full-body ritual, a breakdown of how “sorry” implants itself in our voice, and a vow to speak louder anyway. This is about shedding shame and taking up air.
I Cast Right – Lyrics
This song meets the ache of shrinking to please, of softening your signal to survive. It’s for the ones exhausted by output, haunted by silence, scrolling for resonance and finding noise. It speaks to the ones who perform for comfort and fracture under the weight of trying to be palatable. It’s the burn of invisibility in a world too quick to scroll.
I AM THE FURNACE – Lyrics
I wrote “I Am the Furnace” because I got tired of swallowing my rage. This isn’t a song—it’s a reckoning. I’m holding the heat for every silenced kid, every woman who bit her tongue, every scream that got misnamed as crazy. This blog is a body-map back to your fire—lyrics, ritual, and the truth about what rage really is when you stop pretending it’s bad.
BECAUSE I SAID SO – Lyrics
This song is my reckoning. BECAUSE I SAID SO came from the gap between how I was showing up and who I wanted to be. It’s the sound of me catching myself mid-script, mid-yell, mid-trigger—and choosing something different. I didn’t write this from theory—I wrote it from the floor, holding the weight of my own voice.
INTEGRITY CHECK (Before I Scroll) – Lyrics
This is a body-level oath disguised as a song. INTEGRITY CHECK isn’t about performance—it’s a sacred pause before your nervous system reenacts the old flinch. Written by a military-trained mind with a prophet’s heart, it teaches you to scan your breath instead of the feed. This blog breaks down the lyrics, the ritual, and the real meaning of integrity—when no one’s watching but your mirror.
FUNERAL SELFIE – Post the Grief. Bury the Ghost.
This blog reveals the grief ritual behind FUNERAL SELFIE, a scream with eyeliner and dirt in her teeth. It breaks down what “cringe” really is—a flinch, a body-based shame pattern, and a ghost that feeds on silence. With lyrics, body-spell ritual, and affirmation, this piece invites you to rake the shame, name the pain, and post the proof. You’ll leave with dirt under your nails and your voice intact.
I’m Gonna Get My Stick - Lyrics
This is a love song for the fathers who didn’t know how to cry.
A rhythm born from silence, survival, and the weight of lineage.
The stick becomes a symbol of what shaped us—then a ritual tool for what frees us.
Through stomp, chant, and verse, I dance the grief they never could.
Every beat is a vow to move what stayed locked in their bones.
WHERE ARE THE MOTHERS – Lyrics
This blog holds the spell of a mother who chooses not to pass it down. I wrote it in the aftermath of a hard moment, with breath still shaking in my ribs. These lyrics track the pattern of rage, restraint, and repair—the sacred loop of staying present in fire without becoming it. I offer this for anyone who has ever stormed, returned, and chosen love with mud still on their boots.
I AM THE RAKE – Lyrics
This is what I wrote instead of screaming.
The rake moved what my mouth couldn’t say.
It dug through the grief I didn’t name—but still felt, still carried, still almost passed on.
It’s a rhythm for the ones who inherited the storm and chose to break the cycle with their body.
Not against the ones who came before—but for them.
For the love that was buried beneath duty.
For the softness that never got spoken.
I swing to clear space for that.
This is how I till the field and return with love.
The Cross + The Pentagram: You Are the Spell – Lyrics
This blog opens the ritual body of The Cross + Pentagram, a somatic alt-rap track that reclaims two sacred symbols from fear and misuse. It teaches the body how to mark itself holy using breath, chant, and touch—turning trauma into shield, and memory into flame. This is a nervous system anthem disguised as a rap song. It’s a map back to your altar—yourself.
✦ THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH ✦ – Lyrics
This is the birth story of our son—and of every truth born through pain. It’s blood, breath, and the kind of scream that cracks the ceiling. It’s about staying present when the world goes primal. Whether you’re birthing a child, a self, a truth, or a timeline, this is the anthem for that threshold.
COME | BE | YOU — A Tantrum Gospel for the Loud Ones - Lyrics
COME | BE | YOU is a war cry for the kids who were told to sit still and shut up. It’s a lyrical gospel for the weirdos, the rage-born, the ones who survived by getting loud. This blog unpacks the fire beneath the noise, the sacred scream that saves lives, and the rite of reclaiming your uncaged voice. The song is both a spell and a sermon—an anthem for those ready to make their chaos holy.
🔥 THE FIRE NEVER SLEPT – Lyrics
This blog is a body spell disguised as a song breakdown.
It tells the truth about suppressed rage, sacred pain, and how pretending you're fine makes your body scream louder.
I wrote this track from the heat of chronic tension, back pain, and the quiet sickness of saying yes too long.
This isn't a meltdown—it's a remembering.
If you’ve ever swallowed your fire to stay safe, this is your permission to erupt on purpose.
SOCIAL SICKNESS – Lyrics
This blog unpacks the lyrics to “Social Sickness,” a truth-spell disguised as a song. It explores what happens when your body says no before you do—through sore throats, gut pain, fatigue, and post-event crashes. Drawing from somatic wisdom and real-life experience, it turns shame into signal and illness into insight. Readers will learn how to decode their own body’s no, cancel with power, and reclaim their sacred boundaries.
UGLY BEAUTIFUL — Motel Birth, Mold Walls, and Magick That Held - Lyrics
This blog is the spell behind the song UGLY BEAUTIFUL—a motel birth story wrapped in blood, mold, and divine clarity. It tracks the sovereign choice to give birth at home, in sacred filth, without machines or masks. It’s about how magick stitched safety into a crumbling wreck and turned it into a temple. At its core, it’s a testament to trust, devotion, and the beauty blooming inside holy ruin.
Bless Their Hearts - Lyrics
Bless Their Hearts is me catching my own tongue mid-swing.
It’s what happened when I stopped venting and started asking: why am I saying this?
Every line is a reckoning with my own projections—where I turned pain into poison and called it clarity.
I wrote this one in the quiet after the insult, where the shame sits. Where the mirror doesn’t blink.
This track isn’t about forgiving them.
It’s about facing me.
It’s about learning to speak without bleeding.
To name without blame.
To let go of the story that made me feel powerful by making someone else small.
This is what it sounds like when I clean my mouth and bless their name.
You're Holy (And You Forgot) - Lyrics
This piece is a lyrical reclamation spell for anyone who’s been made to shrink, silence themselves, or forget their sacredness. It’s a spoken mirror—a chant wrapped in rhythm—to remind you of your worth when the world taught you to question it. Born from nervous system healing and emotional clarity, this song brings affirmation to the places that felt abandoned. You don’t need to earn your return. You just need to remember.
Nice is the Disease - Lyrics
This blog dissects the sickness of being “nice” when it costs you your truth. It reveals how fawning, false guilt, and boundaryless compassion get mistaken for love—and how that performance poisons the soul. Through raw story and lyrics, it offers a way out: back to self-trust, clear boundaries, and connection that doesn’t require self-erasure. You’ll walk away knowing the difference between real care and holy contortion.
Kind words from those who felt it.
I keep them close. They remind me I’m real.
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I walked my pitch all day and just lived my daily mantras and just shined. I feel truly seen! Your materialization in this space is the form of an earthly guide for those that see you. I’m grateful to not have blinked.
Dave
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You are a heaven sent and a beautiful sacrament to my healing i am grateful for you. I am always down to dive deeper as a fellow healer, witch, and spiritual guide i feel connected to you
Coral
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A woman who speaks from inside her own storm and dares to leave the mic on.
Anonymous
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You are wildfire, speaking of lifetimes of power. The world is finally ready for you. BURN THIS FUCKER DOOOWWWWWN! 🤣 I'll piss on the ashes.
MaryAnn
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AI is your tool—the forge, the hammer—but you are the lightning that strikes the anvil. The music you bleed through this collaboration is the sound of your becoming, the cry that fractures worlds and wakes the dead.
Anonymous
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Woah this one left me sitting here with my mouth hanging wide open. This one is deep, and will catch ya.
Molly