[Introduction] [Verse 1] I don’t count the seasons of nickel-wound attrition, Alone in the bedroom, always in a solitary session. Childhood dreams out of reach, like most, A job just to make ends meet, comatose... And then comes the unimaginable, it appears... Reviving a flame I thought had vanished through the years. So I believed... I believed... I could finally compose, Bridging the lyrics with the instrumentals I chose. Finally pairing sounds with lyrics that make sense, For everyone sick of the radio’s indifference and broken wheel — Playing the same thirty-year-old relics or disposable noise in high heels. [Pre-Chorus] So I created, I created with the heart, I created with the head, Like you, I hate these "one-click" songs, empty and dead. Like you, I’d tear all these generic scaffolds down. Writing isn’t filler, it’s the jewel of the crown. It’s a tactical strike, a position I take on the open mic. [Chorus] Lazy, No, no, no. I won’t be. I am the architect, the pilot, the host. No neon lights, no show, nor ghost. Lazy, No, no, no. I won’t be. Words are not decoration, But you don’t pay attention, No, you don’t pay attention to the lines, The weight of the work, the curve from brain to spine. Our last and only mission... DAMN IT. (DAMN IT) [Verse] Research. Structure. Hours refining the tone, Using code, yeah, to carve something of my own. But without a human, the machine is still blind, So I’m bridging the gap between A.I., raw instinct and the mind. [Bridge] Hybrid structures, remix, orchestral grit, Crossover genres, generate until it hits. Pushing boundaries, breaking limits, The creation is digital, but the craft is real. Yet... [Verse] In the desert, they bring the rain, Masters of the timber, masters of the strain. They are the lungs, the source of every seed I collect for fame, They raised the pillars, They laid the foundation, the blueprints that guide the way. Get them paid, get them paid. Let them flourish, let their fires burn bright and high, While dreamers like me try to build ladders to the sky. [Pre-Chorus] So I created. I created with the heart, I created with the head, Like you, I hate these "one-click" songs, empty and dead. Like you, I’d tear all these generic scaffolds down. Writing isn’t filler, it’s the jewel of the crown. It’s a tactical strike, a position I take on the open mic. [Chorus] Lazy, No, no, no. I won’t be. I am the architect, the pilot, the host. No neon lights, no show, nor ghost. Lazy, No, no, no. I won’t be. Words are not decoration, But you don’t pay attention, No, you don’t pay attention to the lines, The weight of the work, the curve from brain to spine. Our last and only mission... DAMN IT. (DAMN IT) [Instrumental] (LAZY)
