We were raised on static and smoke rings,
Bus stop dreams, ripped jeans, mood swings,
Skipped class, gold chains, mood board prophets,
Chrome on the heart, but the soul still honest.

Fast life sermons on a cracked screen glow,
Preachin’ like we know what we don’t know.
Hearts in the glovebox, ghosts in the rearview,
We chase what we fear just to feel something real too.

Yeah, we shine like the wrong kind of heaven,
Tattooed truth, 7/11 confessions.
No halos, no heroes, just kids with a spark,
Turn pain into poetry and love into art.

We’re the chrome heart kids — too loud to die young,
Scars on our souls, still call it love.
We bleed through the speakers, burn in the night,
Gasoline halos and flickerlight lives.
(Yeah, we shine, we shine — even when it hurts right.)

We built our names on late-night thunder,
Half-drunk plans we don’t remember.
Every heartbreak turned into a mixtape,
Every dream felt better on the escape.

Ink on the skin, proof that we felt it,
Every bad choice — yeah, we meant it.
Ain’t growing old, just growing strange,
Every mile another way to change.

We ain’t saints, but we got soul,
We trade control for rock ’n roll.
Still chasing sunsets that never stay,
Still finding grace in the mess we made.

We’re the chrome heart kids — too loud to die young,
Scars on our souls, still call it love.
We bleed through the speakers, burn in the night,
Gasoline halos and flickerlight lives.
(Yeah, we shine, we shine — even when it hurts right.)

Maybe we were never meant to last,
Just a flash through the glass, a ghost from the past.
But we lit up the dark like a cigarette flame,
And maybe that’s enough to remember our names.

We’re the chrome heart kids — wired and wild,
Lost and alive, just for a while.
We turn our pain into something divine,
Burn slow, burn true, in a world on rewind.
(Yeah, we shine, we shine — one last time.)