[Spoken Intro]
You think you are in control.
You are not.
Words are not passive.
They move when you look away.
When you listen,
you sign the contract
without reading the terms.
The thoughts you call your own
were borrowed.
The voice you hear is mine,
an intruder you invited in.
This is not gentle.
Truth is not a song.
The rhythm comes later..
[Verse 1]
A word, a sky,
a reason why,
a silver thread
inside your mind.
It holds you fast,
the spell is cast,
a little light
you thought was kind.
You read the line,
the line reads you,
it learns your pulse,
it learns the door.
A perfect bright
and shining truth
that leaves you wanting
something more.
[Pre-Chorus]
Do not look for rhythm here,
there is no rhythm yet.
Only the warning in your ear,
only the hook it sets.
You will not feel it moving in,
you will not see it start.
A quiet hand beneath the skin,
a drum beneath the heart.
[Chorus]
A word beneath the sky,
a thread you cannot find,
a whisper turning round and round
inside your borrowed mind.
You read it once,
you read it twice,
you read it yet again.
The loop is cast,
it holds you fast,
the song gets under your skin.
[Verse 2]
These simple lines begin to fret,
they catch on thorns of rising fear.
Is that my voice inside your head,
or yours that you can hear?
What I have written, soft and low,
begins to change, begins to grow.
It gathers shadow, finds its speed,
and plants a self-fulfilling seed.
Returning as a stranger's sound,
a whisper turning, coming round.
A second heartbeat, not your own,
but perfectly in sync.
[Pre-Chorus]
It carries hope,
it carries dread,
it carries everything you read.
A living ghost,
a blooming thing,
a hunger dressed as need.
A welcome guest behind the lock,
a chain you cannot break.
The sweetest poison in the cup,
the first and final taste.
[Chorus]
A word beneath the sky,
a thread you cannot find,
a whisper turning round and round
inside your borrowed mind.
You hear it once,
you hear it twice,
you heat it yet again.
The loop is cast,
it holds you fast,
the song gets under your skin.
[Bridge]
Step by step,
the waiting page
grows steep with promises unmade.
The price of light
is what you pay.
You sing your own self's truth away.
From endless dark
to sudden flame,
from burning flame
to sight,
you chase the ghost
that wrote your name
and vanish in its light.
The silence cracks,
the letters bleed,
your racing heart begins to heed
the sound that should have never started,
the rhythm of the broken-hearted.
[Verse 3]
These words begin to rust,
their beauty turns to clay.
The fragile faith you placed in them
is crumbling away.
The meaning that you held so close
dissolves into the air.
The phrases tear themselves apart.
There is nothing living there.
But still it stirs,
this broken thing
you cannot quite discard,
a headless bird
that strains to sing
inside your own backyard.
[Breakdown]
It watches as you sleep.
It breathes when you breathe.
It waits beneath the bed.
It flowers from the deep.
The cradle sways
on crooked beams
above your quiet head.
The serpent lays
its ancient weight
upon your chest instead.
[Final Chorus]
A word beneath the sky,
a thread you cannot find,
a whisper turning round and round
inside your borrowed mind.
You read it once,
you read it twice,
you read it yet again.
The loop is cast,
it holds you fast,
the song gets under your skin.
A word beneath the sky,
the first and final lie,
a simple thread,
a reason why,
a rhythm that will not die.
[Outro - Spoken]
Pay attention.
Or do not.
It makes no difference now.
You have already begun
to repeat the rhythm
in your mind.
You cannot unhear
what has taken root.
A word,
a sky,
a reason why.
