Surface Noise - Remerek: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

Surface Noise

Hip-Hop/Rap

Surface Noise was released on June 10, 2025 by 9719166 Records DK2 as a part of the album Digital Ghost

Song Details

AlbumDigital Ghost

Release DateJune 10, 2025

Label9719166 Records DK2

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM96

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Remerek

Other Instrument

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Ryan Andrew Goodsell

Ryan Andrew Goodsell

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Remerek

Producer

Lyrics

Van's parked. Generator's off.

The whole town's quiet.

It's just me and the screen.

Time to cut through.

There's a tremor in my hands but it ain't from the cold,

It's from ten hours wranglin' a buffer, its out of my control.

Chemical smell still stuck in my clothes,

While I stare at this timeline, watch the waveform grow.

All day I'm fixin' somebody else's shine,

On a rich man's Corvette, makin' his life look fine.

But under the streetlights, in this driver's seat,

I'm tryna fix my own, layin' down a beat.

This laptop's my whole world, this van is my escape pod,

From the repo man's letters and the angry calls from God.

Every kick drum's a hammer, breakin' down the wall,

Before the sun comes up and I lose it all.

And I gotta cut through the surface noise,

All the doubt in my head, all the angry voices.

This ain't just a track, it's the air that I breathe,

My last clean microfiber, the last trick up my sleeve.

Yeah, I gotta cut through the surface noise,

'Cause this beat is my pressure washer, makin' a choice.

To blast away the grime of the life I'm livin' in,

This is where the real work, the real me, can begin.

My daughter's got a cough, wife's lookin' worn and thin,

Askin' me when this "music thing" is gonna bring somethin' in.

And I ain't got the answers, just a gut full of dread,

And the ghost of a DUI still bangin' in my head.

They see another Franklin burnout, another dead-end street,

Another "Live Free or Die" plate on a truck that's incomplete.

They don't see the obsession, the meticulous design,

Of takin' every broken piece and makin' it align.

This ain't just a hobby, it's a desperate repair,

A three-stage correction to prove that I'm still there.

I'm tired of the scratches that you can't just buff away,

The ones that keep you up at night and eat at you all day.

This world is full of holograms, of promises that fade,

A temporary polish from a temporary trade.

But this is permanent. This is the final coat.

This is the only prayer I have, the only words I wrote.

So let the engine cool, let the whole world sleep,

This is the only promise I know that I can keep.

And I gotta cut through the surface noise,

All the doubt in my head, all the angry voices.

This ain't just a track, it's the air that I breathe,

My last clean microfiber, the last trick up my sleeve.

Yeah, I gotta cut through the surface noise,

'Cause this beat is my pressure washer, makin' a choice.

To blast away the grime of the life I'm livin' in,

This is where the real work, the real me, can begin.

Yeah...

Just... cut through it all.

Flawless.

Written by: Ryan Andrew Goodsell

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