What the Radio Said

I started writing it down. Every fragment. Every flash. Dates and times in the margins. Keywords circled. After three months of notes, I started to see the shape of it. They said a name I almost caught — something with an X They said a city burning clean, said they built it to protect They said the ones who loved the signal were the ones the system marked They said the music was the carrier that kept the living heart What the radio said, what the radio said I'm writing it all down before it fades inside my head What the radio said, what the radio said It sounds like war, it sounds like love, it sounds like what comes ahead What the radio said — What the radio said They said the beautiful ones built the cage without a key They said the children of the system didn't know that they weren't free They said one thing survived the burning — one signal, one refrain A woman's voice, an old recording, singing through the rain What the radio said, what the radio said I'm writing it all down before it fades inside my head What the radio said, what the radio said It sounds like war, it sounds like love, it sounds like what comes ahead What the radio said — What the radio said Is this memory or prophecy? Is this now or later? Is the broadcaster before me Or am I the sender? Am I the sender? They said a woman chose to carry it They said she chose the weight They said she could have stopped it But she chose the loop She chose to make the loop hold What the radio said — what the radio said I think the radio said — I think the radio said my name