THE LONG NIGHT (Part 1)
PROF. CORTON · THE LONG NIGHT (The Complete Trilogy) · Out now
Part 1 of The Long Night trilogy. Sleepless hours where the clock beats like a drum under the skin, old arguments replay and memory steals the soft and keeps the scar. You don't wake up rested, only rescued from another round.
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Credits
Artist: Prof. Corton
Album: THE LONG NIGHT (The Complete Trilogy)
Album release: 18 September 2026
Label: Fragmented Music
Lyrics
The clock is a slow drum under my skin
White light behind my lids, the day unspools again
I count the cracks across a ceiling I can't name
Minutes like loose teeth, waiting to be claimed
Noise becomes a tide that drags me at the seam
I breathe in borrowed silence, hold it like a dream
The hours bend — they fold the same old maps
Ghost hands tracing footprints on my back
I fall through the long night, into replayed frames
Dreams stitch the past to my marrow, call my name
I wake with strangers in my mouth and iron in my veins
Not rested — merely rescued from another round of pain
Faces bloom like murals in a rain-worn throat
Old arguments sharpen into edges I can't clot
Memory is a thief, it takes the soft and keeps the scar
I barter sleep for scenes that never heal, only mar
They echo in the dark — unfinished sentences speak
Every soft remembered promise turns to a leak
I fall through the long night, where yesterday repeats
A cinema of stumbles, of hollow second beats
I wake with small rebellions frozen in my hands
Half-alive, half-broken, dragged from dreamland's strands
Sometimes the night returns what daylight stole
A ledger of the quiet things that never took control
Sometimes I drown in kindness that I never knew
And sometimes I surface clutching things that never grew
SINK
SINK
SINK
HOLD
HOLD
HOLD
I learn the shape of my sleep like a language of its own
I learn the cost of resting when the rest is not my home
I fall through the long night, but I'm learning how to breathe
To let the vivid ruin fade into a softer seam
I wake with the ache but not as a sentence to repeat
I wake and stitch the fragments — and I try to keep my feet
The clock keeps patient time; the long night bills its toll
I close my eyes with all the fragments in my hold
