Proof Sheet

[Verse 1]
Found that proof sheet from '14, corners are curled on the dash,
Two kids in a shotgun kitchen, living off of instant mash.
Every frame is over-grained, the focus pulled by hand,
a long exposure of a future that we barely understood, you understand?
Smell of the darkroom chemicals still burning in my nose,
we were developing a story, yeah, that's just the way it goes.
You had your eye pressed to the lens, I was just mixing the batch,
said, "One of these is gonna hit, man, catch is catch."

[Chorus]
That's a good exposure, the light hit you right.
Perfect f-stop setting for a stolen night.
But I see the artifacts, I see the noise bleed,
you're just a cropped-out ghost from the original feed.

[Verse 2]
Then I saw you on the talk show, from my post behind the wood,
displaying curated sorrow, looking misunderstood.
The contrast pushed too high, your teeth were bleached-out white,
like a badly burned-in image from a flash that was too bright.
You told a story 'bout the struggle, sold it polished, clean, and tight,
left out the part with ramen noodles under one bare bulb of light.
'This is the master take,' you swore it on your life, back then,
now you're just a reprint of a reprint of a reprint, my friend.

[Bridge]
And the condensation on my glass makes your face start to run,
a pixelated memory of a race already won.
I raise a toast to no one, just the buzz of the bar's AC,
to the subject in the photo who ain't you, and a background that ain't me.

[Outro]
Yeah, that proof sheet from '14, the images are ghost.
Four by six inches of the person I knew the most.