[Intro — whispered] Clear the channel. Lower the noise. What was buried still has a voice. [Verse 1] I kept a candle in the window for the parts of me that strayed, kept a map beneath the floorboards, kept the names I never saved. Every warning wore a costume, every silence learned my name. I mistook the smoke for weather, mistook surviving for the same. [Pre-Chorus] But the body keeps a ledger. The bones remember what they know. There’s a little red light blinking where the old alarms still glow. [Chorus] So recalibrate me— turn the needle slow. Separate the thunder from the voice beneath the snow. If it’s fear, let it pass me. If it’s truth, let it ring. If it’s mine, let it find me. If it’s false, let it leave. I am not the noise. I am not the static. I am the hand upon the dial bringing meaning back to magic. [Verse 2] I have followed broken compasses through a dozen borrowed skies. I have called a flare a sunrise. I have called a cage a sign. Now I’m washing every window with the water, salt, and rue. Any signal made of pressure loses power when I choose. [Pre-Chorus] No more translating danger into something I can bear. No more calling disappearance proof that no one’s there. [Chorus] So recalibrate me— turn the needle slow. Separate the thunder from the voice beneath the snow. If it’s fear, let it pass me. If it’s truth, let it ring. If it’s mine, let it find me. If it’s false, let it leave. I am not the noise. I am not the static. I am the hand upon the dial bringing meaning back to magic. [Bridge — building, incantatory] By the pulse and by the flame, I return to my own name. By the scar and by the breath, I release the counterfeit. What was buried, let it rise. What was twisted, realign. What was stolen, mark the space. What is living, take its place. No more signal without source. No more force disguised as choice. No more altar built from doubt. I can hear myself now. [Final Chorus] Recalibrate me— let the old world hum. Let the false alarms grow quiet. Let the real ones overcome. If it’s fear, let it pass me. If it’s truth, let it ring. If it’s mine, let it find me. If it’s false, let it leave. I am not the noise. I am not the static. I am the hand upon the dial. I am the spell that makes it matter. [Outro — soft] Clear the channel. Lower the noise. The signal was never gone. I was learning which voice was mine.
