I definitely believe that songs hold a key to something deeper. A key to discovering yourself. A key to recovering from a very bad day. A key to encapsulating those things that you don’t know how to put into the right words.
Music plays a significant role in my life in many ways – whether it’s getting me through a long day, sitting with me as I overthink, romanticizing being the main character, or even bringing out a good karaoke car ride. There is something sacred about good lyrics. Even at times when you may not like the artist, they say you can hate the artist, but not the art. And sometimes, the art is exactly what you needed to hear.
I’ve compiled a list of songs that touch deeply into my personal thoughts. Some feel like motivation. Some feel like therapy. Some redirect my mindset entirely. And some are just beautifully written in a way that scratches that specific part of my brain that only music can reach.
“Baby Steps” – Olivia Dean
“I won’t fall back / If I fall forward”
Ever since I heard this lyric, I made it my wallpaper.
I love the quiet confidence in it. There’s something almost silly about the idea that you can still be falling, but not in the wrong direction. It reminds me that progress doesn’t always look graceful. You can stumble and still be moving forward. You can mess up, but still not be regressing. It’s that small shift in the wording that completely changes my mindset. Falling forward is still forward.
“Vienna” – Billy Joel
“Slow down, you’re doing fine”
This song has always been a comforting oldie for me. Especially when I need a reminder not to overstress or overwork myself.
There are moments when I feel like I’m behind, like I should be doing more, planning more, thinking ten steps ahead. But this lyric feels like a gentle hand on the shoulder or a much-needed comforting hug, saying: you’re okay where you are. It calms the urgency in me. It reminds me that life isn’t something to race through.
“Silver Springs” – Fleetwood Mac
“You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you”
This is personally one of my favorite crash out songs. Knowing the history behind that band makes it hit even harder. The lyrics are so bold. So unapologetic. It’s not a quiet heartbreak; it speaks even louder as a powerful cry.
It asserts presence. It shows that even if you walk away, I loved you so loudly that you cannot forget about me. That kind of love that doesn’t just disappear. It lingers. It echoes. An inescapable love that stays in your mind, body, and soul even after the relationship ends.
Maybe you tell yourself you’ve moved on. Maybe you convince yourself you’re fine. But there’s still that sting when you hear their name. That haunting kind of closure where you’re no longer chasing them, but you know they’ll remember you. And somehow, that feels powerful.
“Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” – Hamilton
“You have no control / Who lives, who dies, who tells your story”
I love thinking about history and one’s impact in this way. It’s such a beautiful thing to sit and ponder: who surrounds your story? Who gets to tell it?
This lyric reminds me that while we can’t control everything, including how we are remembered, we can control how we live it. And even if no one is able to fully see what you’ve done, your impact still exists. It reminds me that we play a role in our own narrative, but also in the narrative of others. That legacy isn’t about recognition. It’s about the quiet pieces of ourselves that touch the lives of others.
“She Used to Be Mine” – Sara Bareilles
“She’s imperfect, but she tries / She is good, but she lies / She is hard on herself / She is broken and won’t ask for help / She is messy, but she’s kind / She is lonely most of the time / She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie / She is gone, but she used to be mine”
Whether it’s imposter syndrome, self-sabotage, or just being overly hard on myself, this song feels like a mirror.
The lyric itself is a bit of a long one, but that’s what makes it so powerful. It builds the feeling slowly, layer by layer, almost like it’s unpacking a person in real time. It acknowledges the messiness without judgment. It doesn’t try to fix her; rather, it simply sees her.
And this pie metaphor truly sticks with me. A pie isn’t just one ingredient; it’s a combination of different flavors and textures that somehow work together. Some parts sweet and some parts bitter, some parts hard and other parts soft. A couple of imperfections around the edges. It is whole but cracked. But regardless, it is baked together into something complete, filled with complexity and contradictory parts. It captures the beauty of having flaws and strengths at the same time. That all these layers make up who we are.
“Nauseous” – Conan Gray
“Maybe that’s why I feel safe with bad guys / Because when they hurt me I won’t be surprised”
When I first heard this lyric, I literally gasped. Jaw dropped.
There’s something so painfully aware about it. It’s not normalizing toxicity, it’s exposing the logic behind it. It’s this idea of choosing to be kept in the known over the unknown. It’s accepting of what’s predictable over what’s new. Going with what seems comfortable because it’s what we’re used to. The lyric captures this quiet defense mechanism so deeply.
I wrote an entire article dissecting certain parts, as each line feels intentional. But this one in particular exposes the ways we protect ourselves by staying in patterns that should be broken.
“I Wonder” – Mamma Mia (originally by ABBA)
“I wonder, it’s frightening / Leaving now, is that the right thing? / I wonder, it scares me / But who the hell am I If I don’t even try? / I’m not a coward / Oh no, I’ll be strong / One chance in a lifetime / Yes I will take it, it can’t go wrong”
Well, to be honest, any song in the Mamma Mia soundtrack already has my heart. But this one truly makes me pause.
There’s something about it that feels quietly reflective. It captures that exact in-between moment where you’re faced with something new and scared. To face a reality that big changes are happening, life keeps moving, and we are growing.
It reminds me of my favorite quote from the movie: “Life is short, the world is wide. I want to make some memories.” That line alone pushes me to enjoy life, to keep going. This song does the same. It makes me think about the future, about leaving behind different versions of yourself, and moving forward even if it feels frightening. It challenges me rather than escaping into fear or the unknown. Growing up means constantly wondering if you’re making the right choice. But maybe part of life is taking the chance regardless.
“Get It Right” – Glee
“So I throw up my fist, throw a punch in the air / And accept the truth that sometimes life isn’t fair / Yeah, I’ll send out a wish, yeah, I’ll send up a prayer / And finally someone will see how much I care”
I genuinely feel like this is one of the most relatable songs ever. It has me in a chokehold every single time I listen to it. There’s something so emotional and powerful about it. And to my fellow Gleeks, you already know this one hits differently. Watching Rachel Berry perform it sends me chills.
The song feels deeply human. It captures the frustrating reality that no matter how much effort you pour into something, no matter how carefully or passionately you do it, or even how well or how much you accomplish, not everyone will appreciate it. Not everyone will like you.
It’s hard to accept, but that’s what makes the lyric hit so deeply, and it definitely resonates with me.
“Sycamore Tree” – Khamari
“Sycamore tree / Your branches hang over me / So hauntingly / So hauntingly”
The tree is such a beautiful metaphor for love, not the loud kind, but the genuine kind that grows over time. It may have started out small, almost unnoticed, but slowly it rooted itself and now stands tall, overshadowing everything else in his life. This shows how a tree doesn’t grow overnight; it takes time, patience, and care.
When you tend to the tree, it continues to grow – steady, grounded, lasting. A love that is so meaningful and strong. But there’s also a quiet ache of sitting beneath it, waiting and hoping for an answer that may never come. Existing in that space between pain and pleasure. It captures how love can feel rooted and certain, yet still leave you unsure.
“Iris” – Goo Goo Dolls
“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be / And I don’t wanna go home right now…”
“And I don’t want the world to see me / ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand”
I think this song truly encapsulates the idea of loving someone for who they are – or even more, being loved for who you are. To be seen, understood, and heard without resentment or judgment. To be accepted. To be believed. To be chosen.
The line “You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be” captures how loving someone can almost feel sacred. Like reaching a state of comfort and safety just by their presence. Being in their arms feels like peace. It’s knowing that no matter what, they are here. They continue to choose you. They stay.
And then there’s that vulnerability in “And I don’t want the world to see me / ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.” That kind of love that is so deep and personal that the outside world could never fully grasp it. A love so intense that you would move heaven and earth just to reach this person.
It’s not a want, it’s a need. To need someone like air. Like the air you breathe. They aren’t an option, they are a priority. To love them wholeheartedly and unconditionally. To constantly choose them. To accept every part of them. To believe in them when no one else does. That’s what makes it feel like heaven.
You just got a taste of a multitude of genres I enjoy: from oldies to Broadway to indie to R&B to full crash-outs.
But that’s the beauty of music. It speaks to you, and sometimes it speaks for you. It becomes a new dialect. Music as an emotional language, translating feelings you didn’t know how to name yet. Lyrics turn into affirmations. They turn into that much-needed therapy session. They turn into reminders to show that you are not the only one who has ever felt this way.
And maybe that’s why I hold these songs so close. Because sometimes, the advice we need isn’t in a Google search or a Notes app vent. It’s in a lyric we didn’t know we were listening for.