Cardboard dreams, barcode scars,
Every door got a story, bruv.
Ring once, no answer… next stop, yeah.

Grey hoodie, parcel in hand,
postcode heavy like a wedding band.
Front step smell like chips and rain,
ring the bell, no face, just pain.
Kid at the window, nose on glass,
stares like he’s seen me in the past.
Mum comes out — “cheers mate, thanks,”
but the kid don’t blink, heart drops in ranks.
Same brown eyes, same left dimple,
life ain’t maths but the truth too simple.
Drive off slow, bassline crawl,
mirror shows two lives, one fall.

He got my face, same eyes, same skin,
Doorbell rings, déjà vu kicks in.
Barcode beep — fate in disguise,
Little man smile, I realize.
Can’t return this one, no sign,
Package marked “fragile, mine.”
Keep it quiet, world too small,
He don’t know me at all.

Back at depot, man joke loud,
“Another day, another crowd.”
But the voice in my chest still hums that flat,
where the boy looked up and I froze like that.
Years of routes, miles of doubt,
never thought karma had my address out.
She moved on, I moved night shift,
different postcodes, same rift.
See my name half-wiped on the scanner’s glow,
same surname on her parcel though.
Coincidence? Nah, truth too raw,
life delivers what you ignore before.

He got my face, same eyes, same skin,
Doorbell rings, déjà vu kicks in.
Barcode beep — fate in disguise,
Little man smile, I realize.
Can’t return this one, no sign,
Package marked “fragile, mine.”
Keep it quiet, world too small,
He don’t know me at all.

“Delivery complete — left with recipient.”
But who receives who, innit?
Static on the line, heart mis-scanned,
system says delivered, but I never planned.
No returns, no claim, no call,
just another shift, same wall.
Next door, next block, same sigh,
every kid I see got my eyes.

Skrr on the curb, one-way heart,
I clock in, don’t clock art.
Pay slip thin, truth thick,
life in parcels, stacked quick.
Kid’s laugh echo through estate,
my tune drops, bass vibrate.
If I knock again, will she speak?
or shut the door, play weak?
Some truths ain’t prime, they late,
I drive on time, still tempt fate.
Every box got label, none say “Dad,”
so I hide my grin, play mad.

He got my face, same eyes, same skin,
Doorbell rings, déjà vu kicks in.
Barcode beep — fate in disguise,
Little man smile, I realize.
Can’t return this one, no sign,
Package marked “fragile, mine.”
Keep it quiet, world too small,
He don’t know me at all.

Next stop, next code, same route.
Another life in a box.
Return to sender… nah.
Keep it moving.

He got my face (UK Garage Rap reload)

For ten days I'm in RELOAD mode, reworking all my creations from the past twenty days and transforming them into a different musical universe
The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

He got my face (UK Garage Rap reload)

Terminalose