“Well-Worn Groove” is a somber, minimalist reflection on the cycles we can’t seem to break. It’s a weary, spoken-word journey into the quiet moments of self-sabotage and the “well-worn” paths of our own mistakes. This track strips away the cinematic swell to leave only the blunt truth: sometimes we are the ones striking the match against the wall.

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The Lyrics

The floorboards creak beneath a heavy weight.
I’m standing at the edge of the same mistake.
Witnessed the damage. Shouldered the cost.
I can see every face of the people I’ve lost.
But the dark rolls in like it always does.
And I slip back into the man I was.

 
The cruelest hour is the cold morning light.
Staring at the wreckage made of the night.
I scrub at the stains ’til my fingers bleed.
But I’m sowing the ground with the same dark seed.
Setting the stone to a premature grave.
Just digging a hole in the floor of a cave.

 
It’s a well-worn groove in a broken floor.
The mirror begs ‘no’ while I open the door.
I’m the arsonist crying for the rain to fall.
While striking the match against the wall.
I can taste the ash before the flame.
And I watch it burn, just the same.

 
The shadows are long and the house is still.
Just a ghost of a man with a broken will.
I’m gathering pieces of shattered pride.
With nowhere left for the truth to hide.
Every “never again” is a hollow sound.
When you’re already six feet under the ground.

 
There’s a version of me that I keep in my head.
Standing straight in the light, leaving all of this dead.
A man who stood firm when the wanting got loud.
Who walked through the fire and came out proud.
But the glass only shows the same tired face.
Still standing right here… in the same old place.

 
My hands are steady. My head is clear.
With no doubt left the change is sincere.
But the sun’s going down… the room’s getting cold.
…
…
…And I’m buying the lie… I’ve already told.

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