[Intro] I was raised on ring tones Not on rigorous dictation Yet I’m told my modulations Show alarming sophistication I can’t label every interval Or chart each transformation But the tunes keep leaking out Like a highly trained temptation [Verse 1] I never met a metronome I truly wished to date I hum into my phone instead Let software syncopate Professors speak of hexachords Of tonic–subdominant I just go “da-da-DAA-da” till The chorus sounds triumphant [Verse 2] I mispronounce “solfeggio” I dodge the jargon bullets But somehow land cadential turns That secretly are pullets My method? Mildly criminal Yet oddly efficacious I whistle Stack a counterline And call it “auspiciously spacious” [Chorus] I don’t know the names of the notes I’m singing But the melody knows me I just follow the sound where my heart is ringing Till the harmony agrees From a shower echo To a chart-topping glow Every guess becomes a key I don’t know the names of the notes I’m singing Yet the song writes back through me [Verse 3 – Pop romántico] Mi voz tropieza Tímida Sobre un viejo dictáfono Pero nace una balada Que te busca en cada tono No recito terminología Ni analizo la progresión Solo imito tu respiración Y se afina la emoción [Pre-Chorus – Pop romántico] Cada sílaba se enreda en tu recuerdo Cada duda se disuelve si te acuerdo [Chorus] [Verse 4 – хип хоп / spoken-sung] I never learned “Lydian ” “Dorian ” “Phrygian” modes But I stack these odes Over kicks that code A confession In succession My impression Of a structured lesson Is to mutter on a memo Then I mirror it Loop my own voice back and engineer it bit by bit No ledger lines I ledger vibes Then layer rides Till my off-the-cuff refrain kind of… formalizes [Verse 5 – Southern gothic / Christian-tinged] Down where the choir sways slow and heavy And the pines lean in like they overheard I trace my tune on the night air Steady Just a quiver of breath Not a printed word The deacon says “Child What key you in?” I shrug “Whatever forgives my sins” If the congregation hums along I call that proof the Lord likes this song [Bridge – Phonk house build] [low vocal register] I record one line Then a second line Then a third line Stacked and aligned Kick on the one Then the clap sneaks late Bass draws a grid For the pulse to skate I’m tracing invisible graph paper With nothing but throat and a vapor Of thought Till the pattern feels Like a floor beneath my heels [crescendo] I can’t spell the scale But my spine can spell the groove If my shoulder blades believe it Then the rhythm doesn’t move [Chorus] [Bridge 2 – Yodel finale] [whispered vocals] Now For the skeptics in alpine academies Who doubt vernacular vocal anatomies [full voice] I was told “Young man Advanced notation Is the cornerstone of all creation” Yet I map each modulation With elastic intonation Like a portable woodwind section Hosted in my larynx’ flexion [yodel] Yo-de-lay-ee—(take it up) Yo-de-lay-ee—(modulate) Every leap I improvise Becomes a pitch to annotate I throw my throat across the staff Till staff and staff infection laugh At how a simple Silly holler Morphs to symphony for dollar [Chorus] [Outro] So here’s my heresy Plainly expressed Your body is staff paper under your chest Let the pulses
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