[INTRO — WHISPERED CHOIR] Open the book. Don't read the names. Some pages were never meant for mortal eyes. [VERSE 1] I found it beneath the altar where the candles wouldn't burn, Bound in skin-black leather with a silver sigil turned. No title on the cover, just a symbol like an eye, And every time I touched the page I heard a distant cry. First name — mine. Last name — yours. Whole generations catalogued behind celestial doors. Birthdays, sins, secrets, every promise ever made, Every whispered thought that you believed would die unnamed. The ink was moving. I watched it write. A trembling hand beneath a crown of seven burning lights. Then came a voice from somewhere underneath the floor: "You wanted to know the truth. Now you'll know forevermore." [CHORUS — CHOIR] READ THE BOOK! READ THE NAMES! Every soul beneath the heavens has a number in the flames. READ THE BOOK! HEAR THE CALL! When the trumpet sounds, there'll be nowhere left to hide at all. Kneel before the throne. Pray for mercy. But if the page is written— WHO'S GONNA TURN THE INK BACK? [VERSE 2] I turned another page and saw a city made of gold, Angels standing motionless with faces never shown. Trumpets in their hands but not a single note was played, Because the silence was the warning and the judgment was delayed. Then I saw the prophets, kings and tyrants of the past, Every crown reduced to dust, every empire rendered ash. The mighty and the nameless standing equal in the line, No throne could buy forgiveness. No coin could purchase time. I saw the righteous trembling. I saw the wicked smile. I saw a man who mocked the heavens, begging after a while. Then the pages started turning though my hands were standing still— And somewhere in the distance I heard thunder say: "BE STILL." [CHORUS] READ THE BOOK! READ THE NAMES! Every soul beneath the heavens has a number in the flames. READ THE BOOK! HEAR THE CALL! When the trumpet sounds, there'll be nowhere left to hide at all. Kneel before the throne. Pray for mercy. But if the page is written— WHO'S GONNA TURN THE INK BACK? [BRIDGE — SPOKEN / WHISPERED] I asked: "Why me?" The voice said: "Why not?" I asked: "Can I change it?" Silence. Then: "Perhaps." I asked: "Who wrote this?" And the candles all went black. [BREAKDOWN] THE FIRST SEAL. A whisper. THE SECOND SEAL. A scream. THE THIRD SEAL. The heavens split apart inside my dream. THE FOURTH SEAL. The dead rise in my mind. THE FIFTH SEAL. The martyrs testify. THE SIXTH SEAL. The stars begin to fall. THE SEVENTH— Silence. Nothing. No thunder. No choir. No voice from above. Just one page left. And my name. [FINAL VERSE] There was no sentence waiting. No fire. No decree. Just an empty space beneath my name staring back at me. And suddenly I understood what the terror really was: The future wasn't written. I still had a choice. The book slammed shut. The altar started to shake. The angels disappeared. The walls began to break. And somewhere beyond the darkness came a voice: "Now write what you become." So I picked up the pen. Hands trembling like a sinner. Looked into the empty heavens. And started writing: Not the name of a monster. Not the name of a king. But the name of someone who refused to fear the ending. [OUTRO — CHOIR] Every soul has a story. Every heart has a scar. Every road has a final mile. And somewhere beyond the stars— There is a book. There is a throne. There is a judgment. But until the final page is written— YOU ARE NOT DONE. [WHISPER] Turn the page.
