middle class rut

UNDEROATH VOYEURIST | Digital Ghost

Take A Breath (Live From Digital Ghost)

The Lyre's Lament

So you ask me why I sell my tools?
Maybe I’m chasing something new.
Maybe ‘cause applause don’t pay the rent,
just love and words—yeah, I know they’re true.
But the world’s been priced in dollar signs,
no weight for craft, no room for soul.
If hands don’t feed, if strings don’t heal,
what’s a broken trade to hold?

Tell me—why’s the measure always cash?
Tell me—why does worth get cut in half?

Why do I sell?
‘Cause this world won’t keep a place for sound.
Why do I sell?
‘Cause the crowd wants noise, not hands unbound.
Why do I sell?
‘Cause the system bleeds the makers dry.
I’d give it all just to see her eyes—
I’d burn the past to buy that flight.

So you ask me why I lay it down,
why I trade my steel for borrowed ground?
‘Cause it’s been years with empty pockets,
chasing coins that never land.
Society don’t want no players,
just machines that play on cue.
But I’ll fight through this starvation
if it leads me home to you.

Tell me—does the song still count if it can’t pay?
Tell me—do I walk or throw the world away?

Why do I sell?
‘Cause this world won’t keep a place for sound.
Why do I sell?
‘Cause the crowd wants noise, not hands unbound.
Why do I sell?
‘Cause the system bleeds the makers dry.
I’d give it all just to see her eyes—
I’d burn the past to buy that flight.

Why does music heal but never feed?
Why’s creation treated like a thief?
Why does love outshine the stage lights’ glow,
yet I’d pawn it all just to let her know—
I will not lose her.

Why do I sell?
‘Cause a man must fight to keep his vow.
Why do I sell?
‘Cause the only stage I want is now.
Why do I sell?
Not for gold, not for the crowd—
I sell my tools so I can prove
my love’s the truest sound.

So you ask me why I sell my tools…
It’s for her.
It’s for love.
It’s for life.

Are You On Your Way

Middle Class Rut

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