The bubble burst in silence
no thunder, no warning signs.
Just the sting of naked truth
cutting through my spine.
I saw the world unfiltered,
and the filth I carried too
the weight of every lie
I whispered to get through.

And suddenly nothing felt familiar…
not even the shape of my own name.

Vaya con Dios
I walk this road awake.
With all the dirt I buried
bleeding at my feet again.
This path might cost me everything,
it might devour my bones…
but I’m ready for the reckoning.
I’d rather die than live unknown.

Awareness is a scalpel,
and I’m cutting through my past.
Peeling off the layers
of the man I wore like a mask.
Every truth is poison
but it cleans me as it burns.
And I’d rather choke on honesty
than drown in who I was.

I see the road ahead collapsing
but I’m still stepping in the flames.

Vaya con Dios
no blessings, no regrets.
I walk into the darkness
with the courage of what’s left.
If cleansing costs a heartbeat,
then let this be the toll.
’Cause living blind was killing me
far deeper than the fall.

This is my dirt.
My ghosts.
My burden.
My war.
And if the truth demands a sacrifice
I won’t shut the door.

Vaya con Dios
to the man I used to be.
Let the ashes of my failures
be the soil beneath my feet.
If the price of seeing clearly
is the risk of losing breath
then I accept the revelation.
Let the truth decide the rest.

Vaya Con Dios

BREAK IT

Some nights I feel the world
breathing through the cracks in me,
like time is folding
around the memories I tried to keep clean.
And I wonder
if every moment we survived
was just a quiet lesson
we didn’t know how to read.

This life
is a strange machine.
It turns our pain into meaning
long after we stop bleeding.

There’s a quiet truth
hiding underneath our noise,
that all we ever own
are the echoes of our choices.
We’re shadows with a pulse,
drifting through a borrowed sky,
weightless
but trying to leave something that survives.

I held my breath for years
waiting for the world to make sense,
but everything keeps changing
faster than the scars can settle in.
And maybe
we’re not meant to understand the structure,
only carry pieces of the story
that shaped us.

Maybe meaning
is just a reflection
we catch for a second
before it slips back into the dark.

There’s a quiet truth
hiding underneath our noise,
that all we ever own
are the echoes of our choices.
We’re shadows with a pulse,
drifting through a borrowed sky,
weightless
but trying to leave something that survives.

And if nothing here is certain,
why does it feel so real
when a moment breaks us open?
Why do we cling to details
that the universe forgets?
Maybe the smallest things
are the ones that stay.

There’s a quiet truth
that follows us like light.
We’re temporary bones
carrying infinite nights.
We fade,
but something in our wake remains.
The quiet truth is simple:
we are more than what we lose.

The quiet truth

Dark rock

Melancholic fire. 

Two halves of the same soul.

Hope and rage. 

Light and shadow.



Dualism is the key.

This is Bullywave.

Enjoy the ride.

🖤

The quiet truth

Bullywave

Related tracks