🖤 Lyrics I Lived First
These songs started in my nervous system.
The ache. The silence. The part that braced. The scream no one translated.
I lived every lyric first.
Then I use Suno AI to give them a voice and instruments.
I don’t sing the songs myself. I write them. I survive them. I finish them.
What you hear is sorcery for closet songwriters: words stitched into sound.
What you read is survival turned into music.
📀 My first full album lives on the GORGEOUS page.
This space is for all the single releases—the songs that keep coming.
🏚 The site is still under reconstruction.
Pages are shifting. Bones are showing. I’m gutting it as I go.
The homepage is music. Because it always was. Every other link? Just bones I left behind for those crawling back to their own body.
👇 Scroll for the songs.
Ripple - Lyrics
This one came through like thunder. I wrote it from the ribs, where the church and the wound both echo. “Ripple” isn’t about saving—it's about seeing. It’s Christ and the Devil, rage and breath, ash and gold. I’m not the map. I’m the quake. The scream. The mirror. The ripple. I wrote this to wake the holy in your hurt.
Crow - Lyrics
This one isn’t a song. It’s a spell. I wrote it for every part of me that never got the funeral, never got the scream. Crow is the witness. The mirror. The scream in sky-shape. She remembers what the world tried to forget. I gave her my ache. She gave it wings. If you’ve ever swallowed your truth to keep the peace—she’s circling for you.
I Can’t Make You Happy - Lyrics
This one ripped itself out of me. It’s the truth I swallowed for years. I wrote this inside the guilt—while it still had claws in my throat. It names the lie of being “nice.” Of being liked for staying silent. It’s not about blame—it’s about reclamation. I can’t make them happy. I was never meant to. I’m with me now.
I Was the Abuser - Lyrics and Meaning
This isn’t a clean confession. It’s a ritual. A scorched-earth naming of the harm we cause when our wounds stay unspoken. I Was the Abuser is a raw, rhythm-cut testimony from Loui Crow—a track that doesn’t flinch as it walks straight into the fire of self-responsibility.
Written from the wreckage of a real relationship, this song peels back the layers of trauma reenactment, emotional control, sexual coercion, and gendered expectations. It speaks into the places we don’t want to look: when survivors become perpetrators. When fear sounds like love. When power masquerades as pain relief.
This isn’t about punishing the self. It’s about reclaiming it. Through sound, through story, through unrelenting truth.
If you’ve ever harmed someone you loved and couldn’t figure out why—this song is your mirror.
WIFEY GOT A GOOD LIFE – Lyrics
Wifey Got a Good Life—a love song rooted in mess, memory, and staying through the storm. It captures the quiet joy of a life co-built: cold rice on the stove, laughter in the kitchen, a child drawing on the wall. The moment holds because love held first. This isn’t a dream—it’s the real thing, and it hums from the inside out.
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.
SARAH (Funeral for a Ghost) – Lyrics
This blog is the lyrical eulogy for SARAH—the ghost self who survived by vanishing. It tells the story of a girl who performed peace, smiled through pain, and died inward so the future could breathe. Through lyrics, ritual, and somatic breakdown, this piece names the cost of self-erasure and the beauty of walking away. It's not about shame—it’s about release, choice, and fire.
RAKE AND STICK (FOR EVERY MOTHER AND FATHER WHO HELD IT IN) – Lyrics
This blog digs into the silence shaped by survival. Loui Crow wields the rake and the stick as ritual tools—unearthing what was buried, and swinging what was never allowed to scream. Part lyrical offering, part body-spell, this piece turns inherited weight into rhythm, movement, and breath. It’s a thunder cry of love for the ones who never got to let it out.
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.
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.