Methadone
rock, Brooding post‑punk / gothic rock at 130 BPM with male vocals, jagged fuzzy guitars, rubbery funk-inflected bass, and a loose jazz-drum swing under a straight pulse. Verses stay dry and tense with thin synth pads and distant pedal steel; chorus widens with overdriven slide swells, chorus-soaked rhythm guitar, and stacked low harmonies. Bridge dips into reverb-drenched sparsity, tom-led drums, and eerie synth layers before slamming back into a final, cathartic hook., jazz, funky, gothic rock, punk
Methadone
rock, Brooding post‑punk / gothic rock at 130 BPM with male vocals, jagged fuzzy guitars, rubbery funk-inflected bass, and a loose jazz-drum swing under a straight pulse. Verses stay dry and tense with thin synth pads and distant pedal steel; chorus widens with overdriven slide swells, chorus-soaked rhythm guitar, and stacked low harmonies. Bridge dips into reverb-drenched sparsity, tom-led drums, and eerie synth layers before slamming back into a final, cathartic hook., jazz, funky, gothic rock, punk
Lyrics
slide intro
Verse 1
Teeth marks on the daylight
Clock hands drag like chains
My shadow sells me stories
In a bathroom made of stains
Last night in a paper cup
Still trembling on the floor
Mercy in a plastic blister
Saints stapled to the door
Chorus
Little ghost that holds my hand
Keeps me close
To the edge where I still stand
Half awake
Trading venom for a weaker stone
I’m not clean
I’m just living
Methadone
Verse 2
Train tracks in my rib cage
Steel worms in my veins
Every promise tastes like copper
Every sunrise hums your name
You were lightning in a needle
You were choir
You were knife
Now you call me through the keyhole
Soft replacement
Softer lie
Chorus
Little ghost that holds my hand
Keeps me close
To the edge where I still stand
Half awake
Trading venom for a weaker stone
I’m not clean
I’m just living
Methadone
Bridge
All the gods I tried to be
Folded into plastic bags
If you’re salvation
Show your teeth
If you’re a cage
Then let it glow
(I can’t tell the cure from hunger)
I just line up for the snow
Chorus
Little ghost that holds my hand
Keeps me close
To the edge where I still stand
Half awake
Trading venom for a weaker stone
I’m not clean
I’m just living
Methadone
slide solo