New York rapper F. Virtue releases a music video for his single titled Saturday Night Dead. A track and video focused on social anxiety and depression hitting hard on the weekend.
Featuring trans model Maya Mones beside club kid Yera and model Charlotte S. McKee.** LYRICS **
A lifetime of smoke’s blistered taste
And numbed my fingers like they’re stuck in winter days
This withered face doesn’t go on Tinder dates
I disintegrate inside my little place
It’s Saturday night and I’m alive in New York
Watching Saturday Night Live in New York
And I’m not moving anywhere so quick
All of my friends are going out, and I’m staying in
I live over a known bar in Manhattan where clinging brews
And different groups of people singing tunes trickle through
I can’t tell what they’re singing to, but I wanna sing it too
So full of life, while I’m dying in my living room
Ear to the floor, I could just go downstairs
Been here before, but I never go down there
What if I just packed a bag and took a weekend upstate
Forget it, it’s time for Weekend Update
I thought I would’ve made it by now
They should already know my name in this town
But I’m still another face in the crowd
Am I making you proud? Am I making you proud?
I was supposed to be so famous by now
They should already know my name in this town
But I’m still another face in the crowd
Am I making you proud? Am I making you proud?
But it looks so glamorous in photos
To the point it gives you FOMO
I must’ve missed what it’s all about cuz I felt I was missing out until I went out and instantly missed my house
There’s a lot I gave up to be a dreamer
She said “the world is yours” and I believed her
Eager to take the land, but I only got a meager meter
No coins to feed the meter, just voice in bleeding speaker
The biggest deals are made and broken in the club
So what will I be dealt if I’m with none of the above?
In a Lana Del Rey way this wasted youth has beauty
But it goes against the gorgeous life that I’m not using
Then Colin Jost cracks a joke, and the audience laughs
That’s when my door buzzes, so I buzz back
And ask who’s this? Hoping, but get nothing
Someone from the bar below was smoking and leaned on the button
I open the window some, pour whiskey for one and wait for the sun
My hand on the remote like a gun
This could be the end, or has it just begun?
I see the light
Dead in New York on Saturday night