Paint The Walls

Future looking brighter / And brighter / Look

I wanted the song to open simply, almost like I am stepping into the room and pointing at what I can finally see. The future feels brighter because I can picture a real life inside it. “Look” is me saying: this is what I mean.

Paint the walls / Change the whole room / New life / Same us

This is the entire idea in miniature. So much around us could change—country, home, routines, careers, the shape of everyday life—but I do not imagine us having to become different people to make it happen. I love the idea of a completely new life that still feels unmistakably like us.

Big plans / Coming real soon / Paint on our shirts / Laughing like we made it

I have always thought big and obsessed over where I am going. What changed is what “making it” looks like. I can genuinely picture feeling like I made it because we are standing in a room we worked on together, covered in paint and laughing at ourselves.

If the color comes out wrong / Fuck it we can change it

This is bigger than paint. I do not need the future to come out perfectly on the first try. We can adjust, laugh, and keep going. That flexibility makes building something together feel exciting instead of scary.

Warm lights / Late nights / Building what we wanted / No fake / No stress / Everything is honest

Warm light matters because I spend so much of my life under bright clinical light. Home is the opposite feeling in my head: softer, quieter, and honest—a place where neither of us has to perform or stay switched on all the time.

Your hand / My hand / Color on the floor / Guess I can believe in fate / Now Im walking through the door

I am such a planner that admitting I can believe in fate almost makes me laugh, but that feeling has become difficult to ignore. The door is the future I have pictured from a distance, and this is me allowing myself to walk toward it instead of only imagining it.

Long week done / Sixty hours / Still aint slowing down / Finally breathe / Grab some food / Take a look around

I wanted to begin with real life: long shifts, exhaustion, and finally getting a second to breathe. The future I want is not a permanent vacation. I am still going to work hard; I just want somewhere and someone that makes the effort feel like it is leading home.

Talking like its nothing / Then you said it casually / Paint the walls / Build it with me / Like you saw what I could see

This is the feeling that created the whole song. It was not a giant speech—just an ordinary little picture—and suddenly I could see everything inside it. “Build it with me” matters because I do not want to hand someone a finished life. I want us to make it ours together.

Music playing / Paint everywhere / All across our shirts / Build the table / Kinda crooked / Laugh and make it work

This is exactly the scene that gets me. Music on, paint everywhere, both of us trying to build something and maybe not doing it perfectly. I do not want a museum. I want a home with stories in it. If we built something badly and laughed every time we saw it, I would probably love it more.

Take a break / Start some dinner / Leave the brushes where they are / Laughing over something stupid / Thats the shit that hits my heart

This may be one of the most honest moments in the song. The huge future dreams are beautiful, but the things that hit me hardest are tiny: dinner, a half-finished project, and laughing over absolutely nothing. That is the intimacy I actually want.

No grand speech / No perfect line / Just the way you said it / Put the future in my mind

I write songs, so I am always thinking about wording. But some of the most meaningful things in life do not arrive through perfect language. Sometimes it is simply how something is said. One casual sentence can carry more emotion than something rehearsed for an hour.

One little sentence / Made the whole thing come alive / Now the smallest moment / Started looking like our life

This is where the song moves from fantasy into recognition. The little domestic image no longer feels like a random daydream. It feels like a glimpse of something that could actually belong to us.

Sterile white / Blue light / Yeah we both get enough / Give me lamps / Turned down low / Dinner cooking in the warm glow

This is deeply personal because both of us understand sterile spaces and technical work. We get enough white light, blue light, gloves, routines, precision, and controlled environments. When I picture home, I picture warmth on purpose: lamps low, dinner going, and a place that feels completely different from work.

Leave the stress / At the doorway / Let the whole week dissolve / These dreams / Making headway / Now I know whos involved

The doorway becomes a boundary. Work can matter without taking over everything. “Now I know who’s involved” is me realizing my future does not feel like a solo project anymore. I can keep my ambitions while knowing who I want beside me as I chase them.

Still ambitious / Still obsessed / Still got numbers in my head / Still gon make sure / Were ahead

I did not want love to sound like it cured me of being me. I will still obsess, run numbers, make plans, research too much, and think ten steps ahead. The difference is that the word in my head is now “we.” I am not only thinking about getting myself ahead anymore.

Success used to mean leaving / Always chasing something more / Now Im grinding just as hard / For the life behind that door

This is probably the most important thing I wrote in the song. Success used to look like movement—getting out, getting farther, reaching the next thing. I still want to achieve just as much, but now I can picture working that hard to build a life worth coming home to. That is a massive change in how I understand success.

Used to draw / Escape routes / Now Im drawing floor plans

This line captures where my head used to be and where it is now. I once thought about how to get out of whatever situation I was in. Now I catch myself picturing kitchens, bedrooms, and what kind of place could feel like home. I am not imagining escape anymore. I am imagining staying.

Used to keep / Everything spotless / Now theres color on my hands

Between surgery, my personality, and the way I have lived, I am used to control and precision. Color on my hands is the opposite. It means I participated, made a mess, built something, and was fully there.

Maybe one wall / Comes out awful / Maybe leave it / For a week / Maybe every time / We see it / We just laugh / And let it be

The bridge makes room for imperfection instead of pretending this imagined life will be flawless. Maybe we paint something badly and do not immediately fix it. Maybe it becomes funny, and we keep it because now it carries a memory. That feels more real than everything always coming out perfect.

Maybe furniture / Gets scratched up / Maybe coffee / Leaves a stain

This is the same idea becoming older and more lived in. A home should collect evidence that people actually lived there. Scratches, stains, and marks can be annoying in the moment, but they also mean life happened there.

Maybe perfect / Wasnt ever / What we wanted / Anyway

This is where I understood what the song was saying back to me. I do not actually want perfect. Perfect can feel sterile. I want honest, warm, lived in, funny, imperfect, and ours.

Give me something lived in / Give me something ours

These two lines are the simplest version of everything I am trying to say. I want something with history in it—something we shaped together, something that looks like us because we actually lived there.

If the color comes out wrong / Baby we can change it

By the final chorus, the same idea feels softer. We have moved through the bridge and accepted that life will not always be perfect. “We can change it” is no longer only about fixing a mistake; it is trust that we can keep adapting together.

Warm lights / Paint stained shirts / Something cooking / Something crooked / That we built ourselves

The outro reduces the entire future to snapshots: warmth, mess, food, and something imperfect that we made ourselves. None of it is glamorous, and that is exactly why I love it.

Leave it / Its ours / Cristofaro

I love ending on “it’s ours” because that is the destination. Not a perfect room, house, or flawless version of life—just something we built together, with enough marks on it that nobody else could mistake it for theirs.