"Wash The Stains Away ©

The story — in my words

I wrote this one at four in the morning, standing in front of a cracked bathroom mirror with a humming fluorescent light overhead. I was thinking about how we try to scrub away the evidence of where we’ve been, as if cold water and a stiff towel could actually reach the parts of us that feel stained by someone else. We cut this in a small, damp room to keep that claustrophobic feeling—that sense of being a 'faulty piece of junk' caught in a cycle you can’t quite break. It’s about that blurry line where your own identity stops and the damage someone else left behind begins. I wanted the listener to feel the bite of the cold water and the hum of that violet bulb right along with me.