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The Moab Tapes

FREE DL

Right Time

This one came from the part of me that finally got tired of pretending the ocean was ever going to hand me a map. There’s a strange kind of peace that shows up when you realize the shore you’ve been crawling toward is just an idea someone else drew.

So I stopped chasing it.
And something in me snapped—not the bad kind, the necessary kind.
The kind where you decide, “Fine. I’ll make my own place then. Out of scraps. Out of spite. Out of whatever pieces of me haven’t drowned yet.”

This song is the moment you stop begging the tide to be gentle and start shaping your own coastline with bare hands. It’s messy. It’s stubborn. It’s absolutely beautiful in a way that only the exhausted will understand.

If the world won’t give you solid ground,
build your own island.
Even if you’re still chest-deep in the water when you start.


I’ve been swimming so long
I forgot what dry ground feels like.
Life doesn’t push back,
it just watches.
Silent.
Patient.
Unbothered.

Too many tabs in my mind, all glowing at once,
every thought swimming laps till the water gets thick.
Every stroke feels like motion, not movement,
all this almost progress hanging from my shoulders.

The shore keeps drifting like it’s bored of waiting,
like it sighs every time I get close.
And maybe it’s not cruel,
maybe it’s just there, indifferent,
like the sky never apologizes for storms.

I keep swallowing waves
that look like chances.
I keep paddling toward
the version of me I swear exists.
But I’m running out of breath
and the current doesn’t care.

So if the shoreline won’t stay still,
I’ll make one.
If the waves won’t guide me in,
I’ll shape them.
I’m done drowning for a place
that was never built for me.
If the shoreline won’t stay still,
I’ll build one.

Seaweed thoughts wrap around my ankles,
little reminders of the roads I couldn’t finish.
Jellyfish memories flicker and sting,
sharp, glowing, gone.

But somewhere in the churn
I feel something steady,
maybe my hands, maybe my will,
maybe the stubborn part of me
that refuses to disappear.

Life isn’t punishing me.
It’s just wide.
And wild.
And unaware I’m fighting for air.

I’ve been drifting toward a future
I can barely outline.
But even if my mind pulls sideways,
my heart doesn’t sink.
Not yet.
Not tonight.

If the shoreline won’t stay still,
I’ll make one.
If the waves won’t carry me in,
I’ll shape them.
I’m done bleeding energy
for a coast that keeps running.
If the shoreline won’t stay still,
I’ll build one.

Maybe I was never meant
to arrive anywhere.
Maybe arrival is a myth
for calmer minds.

But I can carve a place
out of breath,
out of grit,
out of the pieces of me
that keep reaching
even when I sink.

If the shoreline won’t stay still,
I’ll build one.
Right here in the chaos,
right here while I’m shaking.
Life doesn’t have to guide me,
I’ll rise without permission.
If the shoreline won’t stay still,
I’ll build one.

I’m not swimming to be saved.
I’m swimming
because I still believe
there’s a place for me.

I'll Build My Own Island

RISALAH HATI ( LEA QUINN x BOJEZ )#MARCOPOLO

ZIDAN REMIX

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