Anti-Hero

What I Look Like

Preach

Preach(Explicit)

Parris Chariz - Preach (Explicit)

Hezekiah - blood

Heart of a Savior

OWN HANDS

Speak Now (The Wedding Crasher)

We toasted to a "new leaf" back in January
And the calendar flipped, but the air turned heavy
Counted down seconds like everythin' gonna be fine
But the "better days" are lost to a different timeline.
We let the headlines bleed us like a serial killer
Twenty-twenty-five was a masterclass, an A-grade thriller
As the world went haywire, mass media ran wild
A twelve-month tantrum, karma's red-headed stepchild

Oh, twenty-twenty-five, you really took the cake
Left the chalk outline of our freedom in your wake
We thought we'd hit the basement, thought we'd tasted dirt
But there's a special kind of magic in the way this world can hurt.
We're wavin' you goodbye with a middle finger high
Cursin' every sunset in a darkenin' sky.

Politics grew teeth, circled like a nightcrawler
Our dreams got thinner, and our lives got smaller
Every "breakthrough" felt like a breakdown in disguise
Twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five, circled by their lies
The "unprecedented" fucked us like a back-street whore
Until we couldn't even tell ya what we were hopin' for.
The silver linin' left us post-dated checks
Scratchin' at the boot-shaped mark on our necks.

We get drunk, or we get high, trade the con for a pro
While the subtitles told us how it was gonna go.
And the cracks in reality are starting to show...
Then the clock ticked off a brand new reason
I'm looking at the blueprints for the coming season
Now this  champagne tastes like a sip of treason

Goodbye, twenty-twenty-five, you were a jagged little pill
But there's a free-fall nightmare comin' on down the hill
We're lookin' for a bottom, but our floor is someone's ceilin'
And twenty-twenty-six is coming strong, all intention and no feelin'.

Yeah, we thought twenty-twenty-five was a wasted year
But twenty-twenty-six has started with "hold my beer"
It's not a fresh start, it's a second-hand trade
It's the same old debt that's never gettin' paid.
Buckle up, buttercup, it's only January third
And we're gonna find out if we ever get heard.

Happy New Year...

I think I'm gonna be sick.

OWN HANDS

MOZI

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