[Intro] [Spoken Word, Close-Mic, Cold Open] Hold up— You wanna hear about violence? I wanna hear who broke the silence. I used to tell myself, “It’s fine.” Same lie. Same room. Same night. It wasn’t. I’m Mister Deconstruction— taking apart my Think-o-mat. Not to disappear inside it— to find the kid I’m bringing back. [Part 1] [Verse 1] [2Pac-inspired urgency: direct, passionate, street-poet cadence] Yo, they talk and talk while the little ones drown, grown folks in the room but the kid can’t make a sound. They say, “Don’t bring shame to the family, keep your mouth closed,” so the pain grows roots where the fear gets exposed. I ain’t saying every parent’s cold or every home is broken, but a child shouldn’t learn that silence is the only token. If you see a little soldier hurting, don’t act like it’s nothing— pull him close, let him speak, make protection mean something. I can’t pray away every devil in a suit and tie, but I can tell my seed, “You ain’t gotta live a lie. You don’t owe no grown-up your body or your peace, if your gut says danger, come to me and find release.” They parade around holy while the poor man’s starving, call it “the grind” while another family’s falling. I don’t hate the faith—I hate the fake salvation, when love’s on the banner but control’s the operation. Make it prettier, prettier, till the ugly disappears, but a chandelier can’t wipe away a hallway full of tears. I survived, you survived, but that don’t mean it’s harmless— I still hear what went unsaid whenever everybody talks. [Pre-Chorus] [Half-Sung, Drums Pull Back] I said, “I’m okay.” I said it every day. Now I know the difference between healing and escape. I won’t buy your silence. I won’t sell my name. If somebody needs a witness, I won’t look away. [Chorus] [Melodic, Powerful, Female Soul Harmonies] WE’RE THE SURVIVORS— WE DON’T LOOK AWAY. WE BREAK THE SILENCE THAT THEY TAUGHT US TO OBEY. I’M MORE THAN WHAT HAPPENED, MORE THAN WHAT REMAINS. I CAN CARRY THE TRUTH WITHOUT CARRYING THE BLAME. WE’RE THE SURVIVORS— HEAR THE HEARTBEAT THROUGH THE PAIN. YOU CAN TURN DOWN THE VOLUME— WE WON’T DISAPPEAR AGAIN. [Post-Chorus] [Call and Response] Don’t look away— (Don’t look away.) Give that voice a place— (Give that voice a place.) [Part 2] [Verse 2] [Biggie-inspired smooth storytelling flow: conversational, detailed, dry wit] Uh, picture this: a kid in the kitchen, quiet as a mouse, watching grown folks argue while the tension fills the house. Momma says, “Be good,” Daddy says, “Don’t make a sound,” and the kid learns early: keep your feelings underground. Now he’s older, got a notebook full of questions, trying to separate the facts from all his old impressions. He don’t trust a headline just because it’s loud and trending— he checks the source, the date, the motive, where the story’s heading. See, rumors move fast when the crowd wants a villain, but a thousand people shouting don’t make a claim fulfilling. I want accountability, not a mob with no direction, protection for the wounded, not another false confession. You can have your rules for strangers, exceptions for your people, moral speeches for the public, private favors when it’s legal. Everybody loves a principle until it hits the wallet— then the “right thing” gets postponed like a project. Since twenty-ten I been studying the cracks in the foundation, pain, trauma, broken trust—the roots of our frustration. But a scar ain’t a diploma, and a wound ain’t a blessing; I don’t owe my hurt applause for teaching me a lesson. If I made it through the storm, that ain’t praise for the thunder, it means something in me stayed alive when the world went under. So I’m building something better from the pieces I was handed— not a perfect life, just a voice that won’t be abandoned. [Chorus] [Melodic, Powerful, Layered Harmonies] WE’RE THE SURVIVORS— WE DON’T LOOK AWAY. WE BREAK THE SILENCE THAT THEY TAUGHT US TO OBEY. I’M MORE THAN WHAT HAPPENED, MORE THAN WHAT REMAINS. I CAN CARRY THE TRUTH WITHOUT CARRYING THE BLAME. WE’RE THE SURVIVORS— HEAR THE HEARTBEAT THROUGH THE PAIN. YOU CAN TURN DOWN THE VOLUME— WE WON’T DISAPPEAR AGAIN. [Bridge] [Spoken-to-Melodic, Piano and Strings] If there’s a God, I’ve got questions— not a verdict, not a throne. Why did I learn to call it peace when I was scared inside my home? I picture dust becoming worlds, then picture what we could become. Not every difference is a battle. Not every ending is a sum. Let “frequency” be how I name the tremor moving through my chest— not a formula for living, just a way to voice unrest. I don’t need the universe to prove that I deserve to heal. I need a room where I can speak without defending what I feel. [Verse 3] [Blend of Both Energies: Urgent Opening, Smooth Landing] I heard a broken kid turn pain into a melody, felt a distant recognition, not an identity. I don’t know another man’s whole story, every scar, I just know a voice can reach you when you wonder where you are. I’m not
