From the album NOISE - Single
This is about identity dissolving under pressure. The speaker watches someone get overwritten by their own existence, each verse stacking evidence that the person they knew is gone. What reads as loss gets reframed as generative chaos, noise as the raw material for becoming something else.
You have already forgotten / You're too far gone now / Those thoughts aren't yours, anymore
Three short declarations hammer the point home. The speaker does not ask if the person is changing. They state it as finished fact, past tense, already done.
Your file is all corrupted / You're not the one I've known, anymore
Computer language makes the breakdown clinical, not emotional. A corrupted file is not broken, it is unreadable, the data transformed into something the system cannot parse.
Is this loss or redirection? / It was a womb, not a void
The question does not get answered because it does not need one. Reframing emptiness as a womb flips the entire premise. What looked like erasure might be the condition for making something new.
You have lived too many lives here / Your words no longer sincere
Living too many lives sounds like exhaustion, like trying on identities until none of them fit. Sincerity dies when you have performed too many versions of yourself to remember which one was real.
I need noise
No resolution, just the repeated demand. Noise is not the problem to fix. It is the thing the speaker is reaching for, the generative mess that creation requires.
The song refuses to mourn what it describes. Loss and creation sit in the same space, and the speaker wants the mess more than the clarity. You walk away holding the question the chorus asks, wondering if you are watching someone fall apart or build something the old self could never contain.