[Immediate Start – five-note bass cycle against a four-note guitar figure] I heard my voice from the next room. Same words. Different breath. [Verse 1 – low controlled CORE VOICE, entering after the downbeat] It said the sentence before I formed it. It knew the shape behind my tongue. The walls returned a second version, older than the one I had begun. Every pause arrived too early. Every answer crossed the line. Something wore my tone precisely. Something spoke before it was mine. [Refrain Fragment – no full chorus yet] Which one moved first? Which one made the sound? [Verse 2 – drums become harder, motifs continue out of phase] I traced the cable through the building. I followed heat beneath the floor. Every room repeated fragments I had never spoken there before. The signal carried all my damage, every hesitation, every break. It learned the weight between the syllables. It learned which silence it could fake. [Refrain Fragment – guitars stop, bass continues] Which one moved first? Which one turned around? [Instrumental Displacement – bass cycle continues while guitar accents shift] [Bridge – voice and bass only] No intruder. No machine. Nothing standing in between. Only one voice split in two. One becoming false. One becoming true. [Build – drums return one instrument at a time] I cut the wire. It kept speaking. I killed the light. It knew the room. I closed my mouth. The second source continued without me. [First Full Chorus – wide half-time feel, long dark melody] There is a second source beneath everything I say. It carries my shape but arrives before my name. It knows every word before the breath becomes a sign. I cannot tell which signal entered— or which one started mine. [Post-Chorus – guitar falls while bass rises] Second source. First to speak. [Verse 3 – full pulse, harder guitars, single lead voice] Now every thought returns in duplicate. Every memory has another face. One version reaches for the future. One remains and takes its place. I do not know which one is living. I do not know which one is gone. The copy learned to call me echo. The echo kept transmitting on. [Final Build – competing motifs gradually align] No original. No reply. Two identical lines of light. One inside me. One outside. Both surviving at the same time. [Final Chorus – same melody, both instrumental motifs combine] There is a second source beneath everything I say. It carries my shape but arrives before my name. It knows every word before the breath becomes a sign. I cannot tell which signal entered— or which one started mine. [Final Extension – melody narrows and darkens] There is no first voice. There is no clean divide. Only two transmissions keeping one of us alive. [Final Tag – instruments stop except bass] I heard my voice from the next room. [One beat silence] It spoke first.
