Steffany Gretzinger - Blackout Lyrics

Video

BLACKOUT (OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO) - STEFFANY GRETZINGER | BLACKOUT

Meaning & Inspiration

I still wake up sometimes expecting the gray. You know that specific, hollow gray that follows a night you shouldn't have survived? That’s my default setting. I spent so long running into the shadows, hiding in the places where the air is thick with bad choices and the silence of a god I thought had long since walked out on me. I carried that stench everywhere. People could tell. You don’t get rid of the smell of the pig pen overnight, no matter how hard you scrub.

But then I put on Steffany Gretzinger’s Blackout, and she’s singing, "You can't turn out a light shining from the inside."

Honestly? It makes me angry. It makes me defensive. Because for the longest time, I was the one doing the turning out. I was an expert at killing the pilot light. I figured if I could just dim myself enough, if I could just blend into the black, maybe the expectations wouldn't be so high. If there’s no light, no one sees the dirt on your collar. If you’re invisible, you’re safe.

But these lyrics... they don't leave room for hiding. It’s that line—“The world didn't give it, and they can't take it away”—that hits me in the gut.

It reminds me of the bit in John where it says the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness hasn’t overcome it. When I was out there, I thought I’d successfully extinguished whatever "light" I was born with. I thought I’d traded it for neon signs and cheap heat. But that’s the scandalous part of this whole rescue: I didn't own the light to begin with, so I sure as hell couldn't destroy it. It wasn't mine to lose. It was just waiting for me to stop squinting.

It feels strange, listening to this. I’m sitting here, still smelling like the bonfire, still feeling the grit of the road under my fingernails, and I’m hearing that I’m supposed to be a city on a hill? That’s a heavy joke. I’m a city that’s been looted, burned, and rebuilt with mismatched bricks.

Yet, there it is. The persistence of it. I tried to run away from the "meaning" of my own life, but the meaning—this light—kept pace with me. It’s not about being bright and perfect in a church building. It’s about being a nuisance in the middle of a blackout. It’s about the fact that even when I was at my absolute lowest, shivering in the dark, the light wasn't gone. It was just waiting for the wreckage to stop moving so it could actually be seen.

I don’t know if I’m "shining" yet. Most days I’m just trying to keep my head above water. But hearing this, I realize the darkness wasn't the end of the story. The darkness was just the backdrop they needed to prove that something else was in control of the switch. I’m still a mess, but I’m a mess that’s glowing, and for now, that’s enough to keep me from running back to the dark.