[Intro – Spoken, quiet, brittle] There’s a door in my head with no handle, no key Just a tremble in the wood every night while I sleep It knocks like it knows me. Like it's part of me. Like it's owed me. Like it owns me. [Verse 1 – Spoken-Rap Hybrid] Knock knock. Who's there? Don't answer. Don’t care. But I stare. ‘Cause every time I blink it’s form shifts shapes And the crack in the frame breathes — like it's trying to escape. I hear it humming lullabies in half-tone Moaning like a prayer that was stitched from a jawbone It says, "Remember me? I held you through the static" "When the world fell quiet, when the panic turned you manic" "When your thoughts turned sharp and your chest got tight" "I was the voice that helped you survive the night.'" "I kept you company when no one came." "I was there before they even knew your name." [Verse 2 – Rhythmic Ramp-Up] Now every night’s a séance with a skeleton key Fumbling words like “I’m fine” while it whispers through me It don’t shout. It don’t scream. It just waits in between Each beat of my heart like a note in a dream I tried changing the locks Tried silence and socks On the handles But damn it, the bastard just talks Like— "You can medicate, meditate, separate, escalate..." "But I’m carved in your cortex, mate." "I’m the itch in your habits, the click in your jaw" "The ghostwriter penning your trauma in law." "I don’t need to break in — I live in the walls" "I’m the echo in your step when your shadow crawls." [Hook / Refrain – Chanted, spiraling] It knows my name. It knows my skin. It taps on the door like it lives within. I changed the sheets. I scrubbed the floor. But still it waits Behind the door. [Verse 3 – Emotional Release, Faster Cadence] And every time I think I’ve healed It twists the lock with something real Like the smile I fake or the bitter taste of pills Or the way I flinch when the pain feels real It don’t want blood. It wants confession. It wants the version of me that still answers the question: "What if they’re right?" "What if I’m broken?" "What if this mask is the lie I’ve chosen?" I punch the mirror just to shut it up But my own damn eyes keep staring back up With a grin That ain't mine With a whisper "You’ll let me in, in time." [Bridge – Spoken, low and unraveling] You see, it doesn’t knock to be let inside. It knocks... to remind me it never left. It’s the chill up my spine It’s the stain on my breath It’s the break in the crowd It’s the scent of death It is me —or what I was— or what I still might be if I ever silence the applause. [Final Hook – Spoken, soft, fading] It knows my name. It knows my scent. It waits like guilt just under the skin. I keep the door locked I pray, I plead— But part of me still wants To give it the key.
