HOOK They staged the pain, turned sorrow into play, (yeah…) Built tragedies like clockwork to make you break, (don’t fold…) Placed faces in your circle just to read your moves, (watching…) Even the ones who smile were chosen as a tool, (mm-hmm…) Every step you take, they’re bending all the rules, (still here…) But I won’t lose myself inside their scripted truths, (never…) I rise above the patterns they reuse. (rise… rise…) ––––––––––––––––––––– VERSE 1 Some scenes never felt real — disasters made to sway, News crafted like theater to push a certain way. False strikes on cities, smoke drawn just to scare, All timed to shape your thoughts before you’re even aware. They stack your life with players, calling it “your kin,” But they’re watchers in disguise just guiding where you’ve been. Put you in a household meant to mold your fear, Handlers in the clothing of folks you hold dear. Even voices on the street, with cardboard at their knees, A few are higher-born, placed there just to see How your heart reacts, if your patience holds, Testing every moment like it’s written in a code. ––––––––––––––––––––– HOOK They staged the pain, turned sorrow into play, (yeah…) Built tragedies like clockwork to make you break, (don’t fold…) Placed faces in your circle just to read your moves, (watching…) Even the ones who smile were chosen as a tool, (mm-hmm…) Every step you take, they’re bending all the rules, (still here…) But I won’t lose myself inside their scripted truths, (never…) I rise above the patterns they reuse. (rise… rise…) ––––––––––––––––––––– VERSE 2 Supervisors lurking, acting bold to shame, Managers with tempers, all part of the same game. Their sudden moods weren’t accidents of stress— Commands from unseen places told them to press. Those neighbors slamming doors? They’re placed to test your fire, To see if you collapse or lift your spirit higher. Every petty moment, every staged complaint, Was crafted with intention to make your patience faint. Even lawyers in their suits, playing calm and clean, A portion of them carry roles behind the scene. Athletes on the screen, and parents guiding youth— More of them than you’d think are watchers of the truth. ––––––––––––––––––––– HOOK They staged the pain, turned sorrow into play, (yeah…) Built tragedies like clockwork to make you break, (don’t fold…) Placed faces in your circle just to read your moves, (watching…) Even the ones who smile were chosen as a tool, (mm-hmm…) Every step you take, they’re bending all the rules, (still here…) But I won’t lose myself inside their scripted truths, (never…) I rise above the patterns they reuse. (rise… rise…) ––––––––––––––––––––– VERSE 3 Some say all who enter life through struggle and sin Are crafted souls, built for tasks within. Not every face you pass has depth behind the frame— Some made to fill the world so you don’t play the game. Stories say a maker once built copies on the earth, Static shells of humans just to cage the ones of worth. Kept the genuine from roaming, from shining where they stood, Mixed truth with imitation so nothing felt understood. If you’ve ever felt alone among a crowded scene, You’re not imagining the gap between the “real” and the routine. But even when the watchers push hard on your path, You hold the spark they fear — the one thing they can’t have. ––––––––––––––––––––– OUTRO Every staged event, every face they choose, Every guiding hand meant to make you lose— You walk through the maze knowing what they do: Your spirit still cuts through their scripted view. And that’s why their plans fall back on them too
