This is a song about some of the worst shit I've ever done. 

Self Destruction Blues

Lyrics:

Shadow stained walls
Echoed voices sound
I call out for help
But no one's there to help me back up when I fall
Made an enemy of all 
those I'd ever hoped for
Don't lift me from where I crawl
I belong in my hole
Help me
I cannot bare my own company
This pathetic waste cannot be me forever
With any luck I'll fuckin cut short my endeavor 
I don't wanna live like this
But I don't wanna die
There is no escape 
So why do I try?
Intoxicated on romanticizing empty life
Self destruction is my needle that I crave at night
that I crave at night
My addiction is depression, makes me feel alive
Why the second I get better do I wanna die?
Mind of paradoxes, optionless, i cannot hide
This prison I reside, I've locked myself in from the inside


Write another letter to myself and then I
Pretend to feel better while I'm tryna not kill myself
What a vicious cycle
Where I just recycle 
Coping mechanisms and call myself the victim
Vital details I left out
To justify my actions 
To justify recovery I don't deserve to happen
How could I?
When I know my soul is blackened
Or is it just imposter syndrome
How would I know?
My back bends backwards avoiding people
To save them all the misery of knowing me
Heh, clearly I don't know me
If I'm out here advertising that I'm lonely
How could i be lonely when I got friends saying I'm not alone
So I'm not alone am I?
So, show me home
Show me where I can recover
Show me where my water stone
I know I may never find closure for the trauma I been through
That's why I cope with all this falter
By letting it run over me
Stampede on my dome piece
Givin' in is how I'm coping
And still I wonder how I always end up broken
Maybe I should focus more on finding where the rope is
I'm hopeless

Teratoma (Prod. numb)

Mr Blue

Vibe: Angsty / Battle-Ready / Fed Up

Short Summary 
The centerpiece of the album. This one’s about chasing temporary highs, trying to buy happiness with drugs, and realizing none of it brings peace—just more pain.


Hook 
I'm not happy I have no peace 
I keep asking what's wrong with me 
Think I need more i'll be better
If I have more I'll be happier x2

Verse 1
Chasing my thrills I have no peace
Theres an empty space 
where my heart should be
I cut lines of cocaine but also molly
I take 'em together when I do 'em off her body
Will I feel better uh, probably
How long will it last uh, momentary
I should get clean but i'm living a dream
I feel like i'm free so everything is secondary
I like sippin' henny huh Ion like to worry
I like pourin' syrup cause my minds in a hurry
feel all thee effects my entire body hurting
I gotta stay lit so my demons won't hurt me

Hook
I'm not happy I have no peace 
I keep asking what's wrong with me 
Think I need more i'll be better
If I have more I'll be happier x2

Verse 2
I sent her away bad habits taking over
find me DOA cause I never got sober
never got closure that is what I told her
sorry for my ways that's the pain spillin' over

all I wanna be is happy
doctor doctor can you help me
why do I feel so empty
I can't find no remedy

Off and on drugs see I go back and forth
Know I'm not alone I need your support
Are we the ones that are left with no choice
Speak for the ones that've lost their voice

Hook 
I'm not happy I have no peace 
I keep asking what's wrong with me 
Think I need more i'll be better
If I have more I'll be happier x2

No Peace

PRETTY CORPSE

A cold dive into betrayal, heartbreak, and self-destruction.
“Blood On My Wrist” is a raw confession over haunting female vocals and heavy 808s.
Toxic love, trust issues, and the pain that never fades – this track hits where it hurts.
Dark. Emotional. Real.

#BloodOnMyWrist #NewDrop 

Blood On My Wrist

how can you love me

Когда слова не помогают, остаются только кулаки и стены.

self harm well done

Check out the full lyrics here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-L0cv5kVaVDflpTkirxR1YMNgZ4a4MP0qV6H8MkIcQI/edit?usp=sharing

"Casket Comfy" is a haunting narrative of a person consumed by drug addiction, grappling with identity loss, and finding a twisted peace in self-destruction. The story follows a protagonist spiraling into darkness, where substances offer fleeting comfort but trap them in a cycle of pain, leading to a metaphorical-or perhaps literal-grave. The journey begins with the protagonist feeling unmoored, as if time and their grip on reality are fading. They’re stuck in a rebellious shell, disconnected from their true self, living in a chaotic, disorienting world that feels like a warped festival. What might have started as a medical need, like a prescription, has become a sinister force, binding them to addiction’s pull. As the story unfolds, their mind is clouded by a persistent fog. Drugs tether them to reality while also detaching them, creating a disorienting tug-of-war. They’re caught in a seductive struggle with temptation, where inner urges and tormenting thoughts lure them toward another escape. Their mind is a restless, haunted place, plagued by visions that promise relief but deliver only fracture and despair. This is no tale of victory-it’s a relentless nightmare they can’t escape. The substances they rely on become false allies, replacing real relationships with hollow promises of salvation. Each use erodes their sanity, yet they find solace in a state they call “Casket Comfy”-a chilling term for the numbness of addiction, where they feel at ease in a dark, death-like embrace, preferring it to life’s turmoil. Their body bears the physical toll: a racing pulse, clammy skin, and a mind spinning with dread. Regret consumes them, yearning to undo past choices, but the way back is lost. They’re submerged in an overwhelming sea of emotional pain, unable to make sense of it. The high is a cruel trick-sweet at first but maddening in its wake. Drugs pose as a loyal friend, offering comfort when the world feels distant, but this bond is a deception, leading to a hopeless dead end. They long for renewal, but hope stays out of reach. When they confront their reflection, they see a stranger-a hollow version of who they were meant to be. Days and nights merge into a repetitive chase for numbness to bury shame, but guilt relentlessly pursues them. Their body shows the damage: veins like roads to ruin, marks of decay blossoming. They’ve sacrificed their future for a toxic end, with death’s presence lingering like a grim scent. Their world feels suffocating, as if the walls are closing in. Though young, they feel aged, their story seemingly finished. The casket-numbness, addiction, or death-feels more inviting than reality’s coldness. Faint glimmers of hope, like light peeking through, are ignored as they cling to darkness. Broken dreams and lost potential surround them, and isolation’s silence is deafening. The casket’s embrace is their only calm, a self-made haven they’re locked into. In a brief moment of clarity, they see relationships shattered-companions turned into hollow figures chasing the same escape. They wonder if their struggle was worth it, but no answer comes. The casket’s comfort is their only certainty, a place where emotions are silenced, and numbness rules. As the world outside brightens, they stay in shadow, begging for freedom from addiction’s grip. But the darkness holds firm, lulling them with despair until hope fades, and they surrender to the end. "Casket Comfy" is a tragic story of addiction’s seductive pull and devastating price. It captures the loss of self in a cycle of pain and relief, where the promise of comfort becomes a grave, and the fight for salvation fades into silence.

Casket Comfy

real.m4a

“I create then disappear. I lost everything, but I’m still here.”

I’m not here to make waves, I’m just trying to keep the light on.

This music is for the ones drifting… the ones caught between the shore and the storm.
I know how wild these waters get, sharks circling, tides pulling, strange creatures below.

I built this lighthouse not to be seen by everyone, but to be found by those still swimming.

Welcome back to Earth. You’re not alone.

——

Genre: Smogwave
Post-apocalyptic soul.
Built from grief, survival, and spiritual fire.
This is what the end sounds like when you’re still here.

This guy makes music and hopes that people listen to it.

I make music on all platforms under the name GoodSleeper

Loyal member of
"WatchThemDemons"
&
"The Blank Space Mafia"

watch my music videos and lyric videos here:
https://youtube.com/@goodsleeper_official?si=z7UUBSoNVZ3T8nIu



New tracks tagged #Self Destruction