[Intro – spoken, very slow, neutral] No threats. No chains. No force required. Just a promise. You will own nothing. [Verse 1] It starts with comfort, it starts with ease. Access replaces ownership, rent replaces keys. They call it progress, they call it smart. Why carry weight when you can lease your heart? Everything shared, nothing held. Your life on terms you never spelled. [Pre-Chorus] No need to steal what you willingly trade. When desire is managed, freedom quietly fades. [Chorus – slow, restrained, chilling] You will own nothing, they say it calm. No edges, no corners, no solid ground. You will own nothing, but don’t be afraid— they’ll let you feel safe inside the cage. [Verse 2] Your home is temporary, your work on demand. Your tools need permission, your money needs a hand. You don’t lose it suddenly, you don’t feel the cut. You just wake up one day with no door to shut. Everything tracked, everything fair. Until fairness decides you don’t belong there. [Pre-Chorus 2] They don’t take it from you, they redesign the game. Ownership becomes selfish, dependence gets a name. [Chorus – variation] You will own nothing, and call it light. No roots, no weight, no ground to fight. You will own nothing, but you’ll be told you’re free— because freedom sounds better when it’s defined for thee. [Bridge – spoken, stripped, unsettling] Ownership was never about things. It was about exit. The moment you own nothing, you cannot leave without permission. [Break – silence / low drone] [Final Chorus – deeper, slower] You will own nothing, they repeat the line. Until survival feels normal and refusal feels like a crime. But there’s one thing they can’t repossess: a conscious soul that says “no” without stress. [Outro – spoken, calm, final] To own is not to hoard. It is to choose. And any system that removes that choice doesn’t free you— it keeps you.
