Prelude

House on the Hill

Thought I could win a breakup with snark. Turns out, being petty feels good for five minutes and then you’re stuck humming the chorus at yourself in the mirror. Sometimes it really is me, too.

It’s Not Me [It’s You]

Life’s always felt like a video game—I never beat the big boss. This song is me blowing in the cartridge, hoping the level finally changes.

Look Up

Clock in, sell your soul, and call it ambition. This track’s me quitting the side-quest of killing myself for the man. The only boss I’m fighting now is the one in my head.

Boss

Ever meet one of those people who just... well... Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes there are too many. Pretty much.

Pretty Much

Written on a day when nothing else worked. Not therapy, not friends, not silence. Just a melody I kept humming until it hurt less. Reminder that sometimes the bootstrap cure is oversinging and a little nerve.

Heal Myself With a Song

About chasing scraps of joy when the whole buffet is closed.

A Little Bit Of Something Wonderful

Ma’am, there’s nothing in the back! This is a hymn for every broke barista, server, cashier, and retail hostage. A cheeky anthem about folding jeans, fake returns, empty tip jars, and the unholy grind of customer service.

A Life of Service

Don't overthink it: a kiss ain't a promise. 

A Kiss Ain't A Promise

An exec once told me I didn’t have the face for music, so I went broke paying for a nose job. Looked exactly the same after — except I can’t smell anything now, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse. The chest grew in nice though, and I sing from there. Maybe I’ll never have the face for music, so I’m building Songbirds of Sunset as my mask. These are the Bootstrap Mixtapes: deep cuts, scrappy demos, the workshop before the album finds its final shape. Hatched from one bad face, Songbirds of Sunset is less a band, more a scrambled cult of imaginary friends and unstable muses.