Of Red Light Gospel

The story

I wasn't raised with lullabies. I was raised with exits: pack fast, smile sharp, run early. I learned to wear normal like a costume and disappear while looking straight at you. But rhythm kept knocking, and one day I let it in. This isn't forgiveness, it's the sound of remembering right, and every song I sing now is the reason I'm alive.

Lyrics

I wasn’t raised with lullabies
I was raised with exits
Learned to pack fast
Smile sharp
Run early

The house had too many locks
Too many looks
Too many secrets I wasn’t old enough to keep
I learned young
Love is loud
Then gone
I watched my mother light a cigarette
like she was praying to something
that never answered
Watched men come and go
Like weather

And I sang a red light gospel
To a God who never showed
Carried prayers in plastic bags
And truth in broken code
I wasn’t born for safety
I was built to stay alive
And every song I sing now
Is the reason I survived

I wore normal like a costume
Learned to talk nice
Learned to disappear while looking straight at you
There’s an art to blending in
To being the good boy
With the razor in his smile
No one asked
No one knew
But Puff was always there
Whispering:
“Write this down, you’ll need it later.”

I had bruises no one saw
Rooms no one entered
But rhythm kept knocking
And I let it in

So I sing my red light gospel
To the ghosts who raised my name
To the boy who danced in silence
And never once asked for fame
I was born without a finish line
But damn I learned to drive
And every song I sing now
Is the reason I’m alive

This is not forgiveness
It’s just the sound of remembering right