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Introduction
“Autopilot” drops us in the middle of an anxious monologue, where the mind is both weapon and casualty. ALEXSUCKS paints disorientation with sharp, looping phrases and a recurring request for someone—or something—to take the wheel.
Verse 1
“There you are, you sit around and all you got / Is yourself to talk”
The song opens on isolation so total the narrator’s only conversation partner is their own echo. The room feels static, almost fluorescent, amplifying every intrusive thought.
“You bite your tongue… when your thoughts are loud”
Here, self-censorship battles runaway rumination. The bitten tongue suggests restraint, yet the “loud” thoughts betray how fragile that restraint is. The theme of internal conflict—silencing oneself while simultaneously screaming inside—sets the emotional stakes.
Chorus
“If I’m the one that holds the gun / Then tell me, why am I bleeding?”
The gun isn’t physical; it’s agency. By holding it, the narrator technically controls the situation, but the blood implies self-inflicted damage. Responsibility and victimhood blur, exposing the paradox of self-sabotage.
“So what? We lost control / Autopilot, I need you”
Having admitted the loss of control, the speaker begs for autopilot—a dissociative state where choices make themselves. The plea turns autonomy into a burden, furthering the theme of escapist detachment.
Verse 2
“And there you go, you’re never one to take it slow”
The focus shifts outward, but the “you” might still be the narrator addressing their own reckless tendencies. Speed becomes a coping mechanism; racing forward disguises the mess left behind.
“You lost your touch and you’ve lost touch / And now you’re freaking out”
A tight wordplay exposes how losing skill (“your touch”) and losing connection (“touch” as contact) converge into panic. The descent from self-assured momentum to breakdown mirrors the cycle of burnout.
Instrumental Break
With lyrics absent, guitars and drums speak the turmoil. The empty space underlines the narrator’s wish to shut off language entirely—music becomes the temporary autopilot.
Final Chorus
“I need it… Autopilot, I need you”
The shift from “don’t wanna hear it” to “I need it” crystallizes the dependence. What began as avoidance has morphed into addiction: autopilot isn’t just a safety net; it’s the only perceived survival tactic.
Conclusion
“Autopilot” captures the moment self-awareness curdles into self-harm, and accountability mutates into escapism. ALEXSUCKS frames the desire to feel nothing as both confession and curse, reminding listeners that numbing out may stop the bleeding, but it never heals the wound.
