Matthew P. Haubert

Matthew P. Haubert

Clonazepam sunsets

Clonazepam Sunsets (final folk version)

Amber bottles on the window ledge,
Catch the light like fading years.
Half a pill dissolves on my tongue,
And the noise inside disappears.

Once I had a dream with my name on the door,
A kitchen full of fire and sound.
Now I just sit where the shadows pour,
And watch the world wind down.

(Chorus)
Clonazepam sunsets over my skin,
Golden calm where the dark begins.
I’m older now — can’t tell how,
And life’s not worth much living anyhow.

The mirror blurs what time’s erased,
A stranger stares with my old face.
I used to fight, now I just fade,
Trading daylight for the shade.

She left for someone who still believes,
In hearts that heal and nights that breathe.
I stayed behind with the empty sound,
Of promises I let fall down.

(Chorus)
Clonazepam sunsets, quiet and slow,
The light forgives what I can’t show.
I’m older now — it don’t hurt somehow,
And life’s not worth much living anyhow.

(Bridge)
They said I’m better, they set me free,
But I left my mind in recovery.
Stable’s just another word
For standing still when it should’ve burned.

(Outro)
So here I sit, hands on my knees,
Counting ghosts instead of dreams.
The sky goes red, the pills go down,
And peace is all I’ve found.


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