Life’s A Deadly Game ©

The story — in my words

I wrote this one while sitting in a local clinic, watching the UV lights flicker against that horrible blue linoleum. There was a guy across from me, just a kid really, clutching his jaw and staring at the floor like it was about to swallow him whole. You could smell the antiseptic and the cheap plastic in the air. We cut the track to feel just as claustrophobic and jagged as that room—I wanted the listener to feel the grit of the metal retainer and the cold sweat of a medical emergency you can't afford. It’s about that desperate, synthetic grind where you’re just trying to hold the pieces of yourself together with silicone and wire while the system hums along indifferently.