album cover
Mirror
407
Electronic
Mirror was released on August 8, 2025 by September Recordings as a part of the album Carving The Stone
album cover
Release DateAugust 8, 2025
LabelSeptember Recordings
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM134

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
For Those I Love
For Those I Love
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
David Balfe
David Balfe
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
David Balfe
David Balfe
Producer
Ben Baptie
Ben Baptie
Mixing Engineer
Peter Ashmore
Peter Ashmore
Additional Engineer
Matt Colton
Matt Colton
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

[Intro]
The only ones I've ever loved all live within this neighbourhood
And I don't think I'll ever leave
The only ones I've ever loved all live within this neighbourhood
Sometimes I watch them fight to breathe
The only ones I've ever loved all live within this neighbourhood
Sometimes they press the steel to me
The only ones I've ever loved all live within this neighbourhood
They feel so far away from me
[Verse 1]
Going home and hoping, sleep and heat and peace and hiding out
Limping off the train, the rain will follow me, it's beating down
First day off the sticks, the bricks, an accident broke me
Eighteen weeks of their assists so now I'm solo and slowly holy
Night in sight, a fire and fight, and fog in the field
Pass by a guy that's high and tryna find a light in his jeans
Push round the corner stair to moonlight air and shadow the safety
I feel these legs are tryna break me as the dark air takes me
The pounding sound of ground around the corner is closing
The chosen path I'm walking might just be the end of the road, and
Turn my head and catch the silver, shining blade in his hand
I both stayed and I ran, no luck, my legs in the sand
It's some ballyed up man with life and death in his veins
And then he calls out my name, double barrel, his saying
It goes full name, whole name, surname and all
I swear the cold of the bold steel was screaming the call
[Verse 2]
Paddy Pintman, scabby joints man
Happy slapping, stabbing, always bragging, what's the point, man?
I've know them all, I've seen them fall, I hear your call, man
I know your fear and fury, and you're lacking hope and light, man
Paddy Pintman, scabby joints man
Happy slapping, stabbing, always bragging, what's the point?
We shoot pool in the same club, walk to work on the same street
Chat shit in the same pub, and sink pints in the same seat
This place is alive with all the lives before the tragedy
They still speak to me casually, but I'll never share it
I'm cold but I care, it's old but I'll bear it
Some pain never fades, it just appears is new ways
This place is alive with with the lives before the tragedy
They still speak to me casually, and I pretend I don't hear it
I'm cold but I care, I'm told I have to spare it
The drone of constant scroll is too much to bear, and it's
[Verse 3]
Pigeons dead at my feet, pigeons dead at my feet
Bad decisions lead to a belief that creeps it's way into your soul
Like some cold, black hole that sweeps away every defeat that lingered on ya
This is not the place that I belong, not the place that I grew up on
Blackshirt cunts squeezing the life and lungs out of the middle grounds
In the shadow of borrowed time on the trash heap of authority
Priority boarding to anywhere the fuck else
Shelf yourself for a moment to pay the extra score for fuck all more
This kip a bubbling mess, depressed and depleted, and half-sedated
How many of us are miseducated? Inflated by a hate-filled rhetoric
While ideologues influencing the city's sprogs like gods
Automating ourselves out of jobs and I'm guilty, born filthy
Seems like no love can fill me, no other place can thrill me
Still I choose to plant roots in this lose-lose
Repeat the picture, an ounce of mixture, denounce the crowd and bleed for scripture
See, I've been knifed alive by mine, but wined and dined by those on high
Became the bigger crime to me
If I'm going to bleed, then make me bleed with a blade I can see
[Outro]
Reprobate, ethnostate, modern nationalist cunts
They manipulate young workers and then neglect them when done
The modern state will strip a man down until he's naked and scared
These cunting blackshirts will give him a face to lace with his fears
Cunts, cunts, cunts, cunts, cunts, cunts, cunts
Cunts, cunts, cunts, cunts, cunts
These bitter fuckers will tell a man that to hate is to love
And hang 'em out to dry as soon as they're done
Written by: David Balfe
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out􀆄 copy􀐅􀋲

Loading...