ERROR STATE - What keeps You Awake At Night

Описание: What keeps You Awake At Night
is a slow, late-night song about the thoughts that keep you awake when everything is quiet.

It’s about unfinished conversations, small regrets, money worries, aging parents, lost versions of yourself, and the low, constant hum of being alive and aware. Not panic. Not drama. Just the weight that settles in when there’s nothing left to distract you.

This isn’t a song about one moment or one problem.
It’s about all of them at once — the things you carry through the day and finally feel at night.

If you’ve ever stared at the ceiling, tired but awake, knowing exactly what this hour feels like — this song is for you.

#confessionalrap #3amthoughts #latenightmusic #spokenword #originalmusic

Lyrics:
It’s not the money. Not really.
It’s the ghost of the money you might not make tomorrow.
It’s your father’s silence in a room twenty years ago,
And how it taught you to swallow your own voice
Before it becomes a problem.

It’s the text you didn’t send.
The apology you owe.
The friendship you let become a museum piece
You’re too guilty to visit.
It’s the door you closed gently
That you should’ve slammed.
It’s the one you slammed
That you should’ve held open with your whole body.

It’s the face of someone you hurt,
Not with malice, but with carelessness —
Which is worse.
Because malice has a shape.
Carelessness is a fog you let them breathe.

It’s the dream where your teeth fall out,
And you’re not surprised.
It’s the creeping suspicion
That you’re building your life
On a foundation of “good enough.”
It’s the love you have that’s so real it terrifies you —
Because what if your “best”
Isn’t a safe place for it to land?

It’s your mother’s hands,
And how they look more like her mother’s hands
Every time you see them.
It’s the math of time.
The subtraction that’s happening in real time.
It’s the question of what you’ll regret more:
The risks you took that blew up in your face,
Or the ones you were too smart to take.

It’s the version of you that existed at seventeen,
Full of a fire that had no target.
Where did he go?
Did you house him, or bury him?
And is there a difference?

It’s the news you scroll past
Because your heart can’t hold
One more tragedy that isn’t yours to fix.
It’s the guilt for having a warm bed
While the world screams.
It’s the helplessness —
The impotent rage
That has no outlet
But a tightened jaw in the dark.

It’s the stupid thing you said today
That wasn’t even that stupid,
But it plays on a loop.
It’s the work you didn’t finish.
The potential you’re selling off
In tiny parcels for peace of mind.
It’s the quiet fear
That you’re not a good person —
You’re just a person
Who hasn’t been tested the right way yet.

It’s the shadow you cast.
Is it one that provides shade,
Or just blocks the light?
It’s the prayer you don’t know how to pray
To a God you’re not sure you believe in,
Begging just for the static to stop.
For one night of dreamless, blank, quiet sleep.

It’s the awe of existence.
The sheer, terrifying wonder
Of being a collection of stardust
That can worry about stardust things.
It’s the loneliness that isn’t about being alone.
It’s the loneliness of being known
And still feeling fundamentally unseen —
Even by yourself.

It’s all of it.
And none of it.
It’s the hum.
The low, insistent hum of being alive
And knowing it.

That’s what keeps you awake.
Not the thoughts.
The echo of the thoughts after the thoughts are gone.