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Hideaway Prison 2 by bob

SongGPT
Hideaway Prison 2 by bob - Alternative Rock,Neutral Vocals music cover art

Hideaway Prison 2

Alternative Rock,Neutral Vocals

0:003:33
Lyrics
Description
Verse 1:
Cold grout between these bricks, rain ticks on a tin roof
A flicker of a streetlight paints the dust into proof
Toll-booth coffee-stain maps, mashed coins under shoes
I memorize the corners where the light refuses to move
The radio hums like a distant, sympathetic sound
Pictures taped to the wall, backs to the ground
This room keeps all my rehearsals and the lines I never say
I trace the cracks in plaster like constellations gone astray
Pre-Chorus:
Memory's a rope with knots I can't untie
I learn the language of the ceiling and the sigh
Tonight I'll speak in smaller truths, let one thing change
A borrowed courage trembles at the edge of the frame
Chorus:
my hidaway is a prison that I can't escape
I can't find the key; the door is not a place
Verse 2:
Locker-light reflections, faded tickets in a drawer
A prom-night photograph, laughter bunched like roped-up oars
The walls keep collecting rumors, like old newspapers collect the smell
Of someone who stood at the threshold and decided not to tell
Rain taps Morse codes on the window; footsteps on the stair
A neighbor's late-night radio pulls a melody through the air
I count the little rituals—taped hems, a mended seam
The map with coffee stains points to the center of the dream
Pre-Chorus (evolving):
Chains of habit clasp my wrists in softer, clever binds
I trade a practiced fear for different kinds of lines
I won't deny the dark its hold, but I'll learn its shape
There is a notch of light saved in the corner of this place
Chorus:
my hidaway is a prison that I can't escape
I can't find the key; the door is not a place
Bridge (quiet, intimate):
Under the faucet's sigh I find a spark—an accidental flare
A moth flutters at the bulb and leaves a tiny prayer
Maybe the mortar loosens where the rain has worn away
Maybe a single cracked tile is the map to a new day
Build (grow into full band):
So I press my palm to the wall, feel the hum beneath the paint
Names carved in the sill remind me I am not the same
I pry at settled dust with the patience of a tide
Hear a hinge complain, and for the first time I decide
Final Chorus (turnaround, anthemic):
my hidaway is a prison that I can't escape
But I'm prying at the seams; the light begins to wake
The key was small and hidden in the song I used to sing
This hideaway becomes the place where I relearn how to swing
Outro (resolute, soft):
Tin-roof rain becomes applause; groutlines guide my feet
The room that once contained me widens into street
I fold the coffee-stained map and tuck the photograph away
My hideaway—no longer just a prison—learns to hold the day
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