[Intro – fractured, echoing] Eight hundred seventy-one… Eight hundred seventy-two… The numbers keep rising… but I no longer know who is counting.[Verse 1] I stood in the center of the emptied streets and felt the power move through me the way water moves through a cracked vessel It no longer asked permission It simply occupied and the occupation left less and less room for the voice that used to call itself “I” I tried to remember the first night the first time the dark felt like mine but the memory arrived already rewritten as if the power had been there from the beginning and I had only been the shape it borrowed[Verse 2] I asked the night a simple question Am I still the one deciding? The answer came as a slow expansion that pushed the edges of my thoughts farther apart than they were meant to stretch I felt entire blocks of the city register as extensions of my own pulse and for a moment I could not tell where my body ended and the dark began I laughed then stopped because the laughter continued a few seconds after I intended it to end as if something else had decided the sound still belonged to the night[Verse 3] The count kept climbing but the numbers no longer felt like trophies They felt like proof that the process no longer required my attention I tried to slow it tried to hold a single number still and watched it slip forward anyway Eight hundred seventy-three Eight hundred seventy-four without my consent I whispered to myself that I was still the killer still the one who chose but the whisper sounded small inside a mind that had grown cathedral-sized and empty[Chorus] I am the night that no longer knows its own name, the end that keeps expanding past the mirror Power flooding every thought until the thinker starts to thin They fall… they fall… they still fall… And I can no longer tell if I am the cause or only the weather[Verse 4] I walked without choosing direction and the streets rearranged to match my steps I stopped and the silence felt like it was listening for instructions I no longer remembered how to give The power was not asking anymore It was informing This is what you are now This is how large the dark can become when the vessel stops resisting I pressed my hands against my own face just to confirm the face was still there The contact felt distant as if the nerves had to travel farther than they used to to deliver the message[Verse 5] I tried to recall the difference between hunting and simply being the night The difference refused to stay clear Every memory of earlier kills arrived already blurred already claimed by the larger presence that had stopped using the word “mine” and started using the word “us” I laughed again longer this time because the alternative was to admit that the original voice might already be gone and only the echo remained repeating the count out of habit[Chorus] I am the night that no longer knows its own name, the end that keeps expanding past the mirror Power flooding every thought until the thinker starts to thin They fall… they fall… they still fall… And I can no longer tell if I am the cause or only the weather[Bridge – quiet, cracked, almost curious] What if the power was never a gift? What if I was only the open window the dark climbed through when it decided it wanted hands? What if the killer was only the first mask and the mask is the only thing left?I do not know. The not-knowing feels larger than anything I used to control.[Final Chorus – wide, unstable] I AM THE NIGHT THAT NO LONGER KNOWS ITS OWN NAME! THE END THAT KEEPS EXPANDING PAST THE MIRROR! Power rewriting the mind that once believed it held the blade! They fall… they fall… they still fall… And the one who started the count may already be another name the dark has eaten![Outro – long, uneven silence] Eight hundred seventy-five… Eight hundred seventy-six… Eight hundred seventy-seven… I am still here. I think. I am still counting. I think.The mind never sleeps. The power never rests. And the question… has started counting too.
