The calm before the storm, a cinematic prelude where the narrator stands beneath a bleeding sky, realizing that every scar tells a story.
The journey begins in the quiet before collapse.

Scars Like Skylines

Transformation.
Pain turns to power, trauma becomes fuel. The heart beats with static and strength. This is where the broken become self-forged — alive through the energy of their own survival.

Bleed Electric

The relapse.
The mind returns to chaos, anxiety, paranoia, the endless mental hum. It’s a transmission between clarity and collapse, the struggle to find signal in the noise.

Fading Static

The prayer to no one.
A slow, tragic realization that maybe the universe isn’t listening, but somehow, the act of speaking still matters. It’s surrender, not defeat.

Heaven Doesn’t Know My Name

The quiet rebirth.
Hope flickers in the ruins. Healing isn’t clean, it’s trembling, uneven, but real.
This is where the protagonist begins to breathe again.

Ashes and Answers

The triumph.
Not perfect, not healed, but alive. Every scar becomes armor, every fall a lesson.
The record ends with defiance, “I rise from ruin.”

Rise from Ruin

that quiet moment before the storm clears — soft, reflective, and heavy with nostalgia.

When the Colors Fade

Every creation you make — every song, every brushstroke — carries the fingerprints of the people who shaped you.
The ghosts aren’t meant to scare you… they remind you that love and pain still live in your art.

Ghosts on the Canvas

about accepting that you can’t go back — but still honoring what was.
You’re not trying to relive it; you’re just grateful it existed, even though it hurts to remember

Heaven Doesn’t Know My Name

Chais Wade

Related tracks