❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥fucking love this song!!!

Blood Runs Red

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Produced, Performed & Written by Kai Straw
Engineered by Fred Sorenson
Artwork by Alex Fyock

Lyrics:

Sometimes I can get caught up
I can get let down
I can get let go of by someone I found
It can feel like I’m up all the way to my ears
In thoughts of what I’ll never be
It’s like what don’t I got?
To what do I amount?
Am I living some way that I shouldn’t somehow?
Is there more I should be, or should do, or should find?
Am I enough or will I ever be?

I try to give myself a minute but the clock won’t approve
Won’t approve, won’t approve
If I could use a genie from this bottle like the liquor was blue
I would choose, I would choose

A little less pressure
A little less pressure on me
A little less what could I be
And more of who’s in front of me
A little less pressure
A little less pressure on me
A little less what could I be
And more of who’s in front of me

Sometimes I can get caught up
And forget who’s around
And live like the future’s more precious than now
It’s like no matter where I stay or who sits beside me
I can feel alone and somewhere else
And sometimes I can feel unloved
I can feel burned out
I can feel unseen like I’m the ghost of myself
Maybe I need a change
Maybe I need some help
Or maybe I need to scream just to feel out loud

I try to give myself a minute but the clock won’t approve
Won’t approve, won’t approve
If I could use a genie from this bottle, get a wish from the booze
I would choose, I would choose

A little less pressure
A little less pressure on me
A little less what could I be
And more of who’s in front of me
A little less pressure
A little less pressure on me
A little less what could I be
And more of who’s in front of me

Pressure

Stream

June, After Dark

Dear Listener,

This record is my love letter wrapped in honey. At first, it melts—warm, golden, almost too sweet to believe. But as it lingers, the edges sharpen, and what was once soft begins to sting. The Honeycomb Aftertaste is about that kind of love: the kind you crave, the kind that clings, the kind you still taste long after it’s gone. Every song is a page from that letter, written in sweetness and sealed with the bitterness of what remains.

Yours,
The Honeycomb Aftertaste

Undo

Transviolet

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