album cover
artist
Country Lunatic
Fun Till It Ain't
477
Country
Fun Till It Ain't was released on November 26, 2025 by F.O.W.B Independent Records L.L.C as a part of the album Still Struggling - EP
album cover
AlbumStill Struggling - EP
Release DateNovember 26, 2025
LabelF.O.W.B Independent Records L.L.C
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM80

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Country Lunatic
Country Lunatic
Vocals, Solo
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Daryl Johnson Jr
Daryl Johnson Jr
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Daryl Johnson Jr
Daryl Johnson Jr
Producer

Lyrics

They don’t tell you how fast it hits...
First hit, you smilin’, swearin’ you got a grip.
Next thing it’s 4 a.m., no food in the fridge,
Crib’s empty, girl gone, and you twitchin’ by the sink.
That same damn spoon — your last fuckin’ friend,
And you prayin’ it’ll help you not break again.
Nobody *dreams* of being a junkie,
Nobody plans to end up dirty, broke, and funky.
Sellin' your mama’s TV for a ten,
Cryin’ in the dark, beggin' God like, "When?"
Is it one more hit — or just let me die?
Either way, you don't get to say goodbye.
They don’t come with warnings, them drugs come smilin’—
Bonfire nights, laughin’, wildin’.
"just one try," "it ain’t that deep"—
But they don’t show you the nights you can't sleep.
Truth is, it’s poison with a grin on its face,
A demon that curses your whole bloodline's place.
Your kids grow up numb,
Your name turns to shame,
And you stuck in your skin like a ghost with no name.
This ain’t a song—it’s a *confession*,
A funeral dirge from a lost obsession.
A war cry for the broken still breathin’,
And a warning to the ones still teasin’.
You think you harder than the dope?
Then walk with me,
Through a graveyard of ghosts
Who all thought they were free.
Starts out slow—just a lil’ bit of thrill,
'til you starin’ at the ceilin’, body cold still.
Heart beatin' sideways, teeth grindin’ loud,
Skin crawlin' off like it’s tryna get out.
First hit? heaven in a glass tube kiss,
Next week? sellin’ your soul for a fix.
Laughin’ turns to lies, lies into theft,
Five years gone, and there’s nothin’ left.
You ain’t cookin’ steaks—nah, you cookin’ shards,
Kid starvin’ while you out in them yards.
Wife ghosted, pawned her ring for rent,
And the pipe’s got a grip like it’s heaven-sent.
Fun till it’s fire, then it’s all burn,
You trade love for a high you can’t unlearn.
Devil talks sweet with a sugar drip,
But he’ll gut your soul with a rusty tip.
Starts as a thrill, ends in a cage,
Sweatin’ out demons, shakin’ with rage.
You thought it was a ride, now it’s just pain,
Your whole fuckin’ life circlin' the drain.
Used to hold my baby tight every night,
Now I hold a flame, chasin’ false flight.
Used to kiss my wife, now I kiss the glass,
Tryna forget who the fuck I was in the past.
I laughed at junkies—called 'em weak,
Now I’m twitchin’, tweaked out, can’t even speak.
Robbed my cousin, stole from my kin,
Just to feed the beast I invited in.
Ain’t nothin’ pretty in a trailer of ghosts,
Where love’s long gone and regret haunts the posts.
Ain’t no light when the buzz runs dry,
Just a shadow in the mirror, wonderin’ why.
Fun till it’s fire, then it’s all burn,
You trade love for a high you can’t unlearn.
Devil talks sweet with a sugar drip,
But he’ll gut your soul with a rusty tip.
Starts as a thrill, ends in a cage,
Sweatin’ out demons, shakin’ with rage.
You thought it was a ride, now it’s just pain,
Your whole fuckin’ life circlin' the drain.
Quittin’s a war—one you fight alone,
White-knuckle grips, screamin' into phones.
One day clean, next day bent,
Hope feels fake when your strength is spent.
But I’m crawlin’ out, bit by bit,
Stitchin’ my soul from the pieces it split.
If you hear me now—don’t take that taste,
Or you’ll wake up years deep in a world erased.
Fun 'til it’s not, then it’s too far gone,
You blink, and your whole fuckin’ life is gone.
Kids don’t call, your name gets cursed,
And your best memories feel like a hearse.
Ain’t no truth in them plastic highs,
Just a slow death wearin' a clever disguise.
So if you clean, stay the fuck that way,
'cause dope don’t love you—it just digs your grave.
Written by: Daryl Johnson Jr

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