ROADKILL - demo

Roadkill a track from ROADRUNNER I wrote Roadkill from the place where the past and present collide so hard that you can feel the bruise forming under your skin. This song is the reckoning you try to avoid until it corners you. It comes from that moment when the mask cracks, when the exhaustion stops being metaphor and becomes the actual truth sitting in your chest. Roadkill is the point in the journey where you realize the path toward self acceptance is not clean, not linear, and not polished. It is messy. It is out of tune in places. It is real in a way that hurts. In the world of ROADRUNNER, this track is the confrontation you cannot outrun. It holds the panic of being seen and the ache of being overlooked. It asks what happens when you no longer recognize your own momentum, when you cannot tell whether you are disappearing or finally showing up. This is the emotional wreckage you stumble through when you admit that something inside you has been decaying beneath the surface, no matter how hard you tried to scrub yourself clean. Roadkill circles the questions you whisper only when you are alone: do I rot where the world can see me, or do I scream until someone finally turns their head? Sonically, Roadkill feels stripped open. The vocals sit raw and imperfect on purpose, because honesty does not shine. It sticks. It stains. The production leans toward grit and distortion, as if the song itself has been dragged across miles of pavement. It should sound like a body left in its own truth, the world speeding past while the heart beats slow and unsure. Roadkill is the sound of being reduced to your pieces and still choosing to look at them. (from the album ROADRUNNER, a spiritual pop experimental collection about ego death, emotional reckoning, and the long sprint toward self-acceptance.)