Windows of life that’s broke
By Raymond Livingston
The jury knows from my record, every charge, every note they read,
All the fury and low blows, all the times I should’ve bled.
Tried to bury all the damage, but it still grows in my head,
No one really knows the truth, not even me, I just see red.My mind so blurry, nights cold, days slow,
Cold blood in my veins, stories only the streets know.
What goes untold always comes back when it unfolds,
I was way too young, but I walked that path like I was old.
Thought it was a joke when I first let control go,
Didn’t see the chains when I first sold my soul though.
Now I’m standing in the mirror with a face I don’t know,
Ask myself, “How the hell did it all go so wrong, bro?”
Now I’m staring through a window of life that’s broke,
Dreams fell down, turned to powder, dust, and smoke.
Every bad choice feels carved in stone,
But I’m tired of the pain, I don’t wanna die alone.
If this the life that my past wrote,
Can I flip the page, can I change the quote?
For all I knew, it was fun, just a harmless little line,
Then it grew into cocaine, drunk and Smokey every night.
Living fast, flying blind, throwing years out of sight,
Watching life fly out the window while I laughed at the height.Now the glass on that window of life is cracked,
Shards on the floor from the nights I never came back.
Who wrote this disgraceful, dysfunctional design?
Who signed off on this wreck of a life that’s mine?
A natural living life of mine turned so unnatural quick,
Regrettable, unforgettable, every move so slick.
Day‑to‑day, wrong way, just trying to get by,
Ducking truth, dodging love, always running from “why.”
Now I’m staring through a window of life that’s broke,
Dreams fell down, turned to powder, dust, and smoke.
Every bad choice feels carved in stone,
But I’m tired of the pain, I don’t wanna die alone.
If this the life that my past wrote,
Can I flip the page, can I change the quote?
If I could talk to that kid with the wide‑open eyes,
Tell him “don’t trade your soul just to feel alive.”
Every high got a price that the body can’t hide,
And every low leave a scar on the inside.Maybe I can take this broken glass and make art,
Turn this window into mirrors, put the pieces in my heart.
I ain’t perfect, but I’m still here, still breathing,
If there’s a way out, then there’s still a reason.
I’ve been staring through a window of life that’s broke,
But I’m patching every crack with every promise I spoke.
All this cold blood still runs, but it’s warming slow,
Trying to build a better path from the pain I know.
If this the life that my past wrote,
I’ma grab that pen back and rewrite the quote.
