The speaker is trying to leave a deep, personal sense of guilt behind. They’re announcing a goodbye to it, picturing themselves walking away into something bright and freeing, like sunshine. The middle lines sketch out a fantasy of escape—to a place of peace, without conflict or complicated love, just a glossy, perfect scene like a "barbie LA sunrise" on a beach or a dance floor. It’s a desperate, almost reckless declaration of leaving: "I gonna fucking gone guys."
But the final twist undercuts all that bravado. The speaker admits that fault, or guilt, is like a constant companion, a "co-moon" that follows them across any lifetime. The cheerful, defiant mood of escape crashes into a resigned and weary understanding. The guilt isn't something you just walk away from; it's a permanent part of your orbit.