歌词
(Verse 1)
In the fridge of my heart, you were my cream,
Rising to the top, a dairy dream.
But time ticked by, we turned so still,
Our love went sour, against our will.
(Chorus)
Curdled love, oh, it's a bitter taste,
Like milk left out, a love gone to waste.
In the beat of the night, we lost our flow,
Curdled love, where did the sweetness go?
(Verse 2)
We danced in light, now we throb in the dark,
A rhythm lost, no more electric spark.
Once fluid moves, now just a curdled mess,
Our love's expiration, I must confess.
(Bridge)
Synthetic beats, they pulse and fade,
Our melody's spoiled, in the shade.
Can't churn the past, to spread once more,
Curdled love, can't restore.
(Outro)
So I pour out the pain, let the bass drop low,
Our love's a carton empty, nothing left to show.
Curdled love, we're just a silent plea,
Echoes of what we used to be.
(Rap Verse)
Yo, check it, uh,
I'm sippin' on memories, bitter and twisted,
Love's expiration date, somehow I missed it.
We were fresh on the shelf, life's grocery list,
Now we're just a love story, crumpled and dissed.
Curds in my heart, yeah, they're hard to digest,
Thought we were eternal, but it was just a jest.
You played with my emotions, a cruel test,
Left me in the aisle, heart ripped from my chest.
But I'm skimming the surface, removing the film,
Finding clarity in the chaos, a newfound vim.
I'll blend a new beat, a love anthem, a hymn,
No more sour notes, I'm going out on a limb.
I'm the maestro of my fate, no more feeling grim,
Turning up the volume, life's vigor, not dim.
Curdled love's just a phase, not the end or the brim,
I'm moving past the spoil, on a brand new whim.
Whim
(Chorus)
Curdled love, oh, it's a bitter taste,
Like milk left out, a love gone to waste.
In the beat of the night, we lost our flow,
Curdled love, where did the sweetness go?
(Bridge)
Synthetic beats, they pulse and fade,
Our melody's spoiled, in the shade.
Can't churn the past, to spread once more,
Curdled love, can't restore.
(Outro)
So I pour out the pain, let the bass drop low,
Our love's a carton empty, nothing left to show.
Curdled love, we're just a silent plea,
Echoes of what we used to be.
