Hasta que me quede sin voz

I miss our wild years so much
Lying in the storm
Now I just live wrapped up in selfie orgies
Reversing post-tour depressions
Dodging hyperreality

Stuffed with crazy killers on Netflix
I haven't slept straight in months
My issues with alcohol are growing
Do I need help?
I've thought about it several times

There's always a good excuse
And it doesn't convince me
Serial killers, sourdough
TikToks and their bullshit
Today's world doesn't belong to me
It's just a kind of my own madhouse

What I can see with one eye
Is enough reality
An insatiable world wounded by egos and hate
Look at the vultures picking the business clean
Everything sounds the same to me

An algorithm speeding up the heartbeat
Causing destruction
Neon lights are never what they seem
My terror before the show is growing
Am I brushing against madness?
I've thought about it several times

These are my peaks of bitterness and unfinished business
Serial killers, sourdough
TikToks and their bullshit
Today's world doesn't belong to me
It's just a kind of my own madhouse

Always those voices, those ghostly voices
I've been too unhinged
Turning my back
Always those voices, those ghostly voices
I think I need to slow down
Take it easy

Always those voices, those ghostly voices