Playlist auto generated with Tidal Rising Tracks.

# Tidal Rising Tracks

Why Would I Watch

Shhhh! Golf is On

how do i let go

The Weight

You Ominously End

Funny Face

Red Dirt, Green Grass, Blue Sky

Switch It Up

Northface

Eternal

Failure

And a Big Load

Dead Weight

kILL tHE tIEs (aXiom-collab)
*Working title- Quality-Control’d…?

[Verse 1]
They pin a price tag to my chest like I’m boxed, shrink-wrapped, 
brand new- then pawn me off as the next best thang
Say you’re premium, 
you’re rare, 
you’re the one, 
like I’m some stallion studded with chrome and run. 
But when the saddle slips, 
when my gait gets lame, 
they blame the reins, 
not the weight of their game. 
They fluff my mane, 
snap the flash, 
then ghost when the stall starts to crash. 

[Pre-Chorus]
Warranty voided in fine print-
screw your extended, 
you’re the glitch in the script. 

[Chorus] 
You wanted torque? 
Got a torque wrench to my spine-
still spinnin’ faster than your half-assed sign-off time. 
Hung me out like a test mule on display, 
now I’m high ‘n dry… 
still better mileage than your runaway. 

[Verse 2]
Finger tapped every fret while you skimmed the manual-
means I’m tuned, you’re tunable. 
You wanted a maestro? I’m the full fuckin band

[Chorus] 
You wanted torque? 
Got a torque wrench to my spine-
still spinnin’ faster than your half-assed sign-off time. 
Hung me out like a test mule on display, 
now I’m high ‘n dry… 
still better mileage than your runaway. 

[Verse 3] You rev me redline, then clutch at the brake— call it “stress test,” I call it foreplay with fate. Oil-slick promises drip from your lips, but I’m the dipstick checkin’ your counterfeit slips. They badge me “elite,” slap on the gloss, yet idle me rough when the real stakes get this height   Pump the pedal, feel the kickback bite— your quality ride just back-fired, 
blue-balled the night.

[Post-Chorus]
Warranty voided in fine print-
screw your extended, 
you’re the glitch in the script. 

[Verse 4] Factory fresh? Nah, I’m the prototype sin, overclocked heart throbbin’ under thin skin. You bolt on the hype, torque down the lie, but I’m the loose lug nut spinnin’ you
Smiling- “bye-bye.” “They spec-sheet my soul, rate me five-star, then bench me for rust when the mileage gets far. Crank the ignition, 
hear the growl in my throat— your “final inspection” just choked on that note.

[Pre-Chorus] Warranty voided in fine print— screw your extended, you’re the glitch in the script.

[Chorus] You wanted torque? Got a torque wrench to my spine— still spinnin’ faster than your half-assed sign-off time. Hung me out like a test mule on display, now I’m high ‘n dry… still better mileage than your runaway.
[Outro – whispered over fading engine rev] Quality-Control’d? More like quality-ctrl-Z… “click”

You Ominously End

Arm's Length

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