Broken Glass

Some songs arrive like whispers, others like storms. Broken Glass came somewhere in between. It is a story about moving through days that feel uncertain, about stepping into situations without thinking, about carrying burdens too heavy to name.

The imagery is sharp and fractured. A stranger offering a ride. A restless escape that ends at a river. Shoes tossed aside, walking barefoot into the unknown. The chorus anchors it all: that piercing sound, like a bullet in the head that won’t go away, echoing against a house of broken glass. It’s not just a home, but a prison, fragile and transparent, one you can never really hide inside.

The song explores themes of disconnection, lies we tell ourselves, and the loneliness of building walls so high no one can reach us. Each verse pulls you deeper into that blurred, dangerous space where truth slips away and everything feels uncertain. The bridge and later verses speak of chasing empty thrills, of stepping on mines you laid yourself, of tales that deceive and shadows that won’t let go.

For me, Broken Glass isn’t about one moment in time. It’s about the recurring cycle of doubt, isolation, and fragile hope. The way life can look so solid from the outside, yet be so dangerously thin when you’re living inside it.

It’s not an easy song, but it’s an honest one. Sometimes honesty feels like shards beneath your feet, cutting you open as you walk forward. That’s what this song tries to capture.