[INTRO — DRY MALE WHISPER] The mirror never copied me. It kept what I was becoming. [FOUR BONE CLICKS] One for the face. One for the name. One for the future we taught to behave. [VERSE 1 — CLOSE BARITONE] I found tomorrow behind my teeth, chewing the words I refused to speak. Every little kindness I called too weak grew iron roots underneath my feet. The glass held faces I used to survive— the obedient dead, the beautiful lie. I raised my hand. Every reflection raised a knife. [PRE-CHORUS — STUTTERING DOUBLES] What do you feed? What do you fear? What becomes real when nobody’s here? [ALL SOUND CUTS] Look again. [CHORUS — INDUSTRIAL RELEASE] THE MIRROR PLANTS TOMORROW WITH EVERYTHING WE DO TODAY. Every wound becomes a window. Every word becomes a blade. If we keep feeding the sorrow, we shouldn’t fear what sorrow makes. THE MIRROR PLANTS TOMORROW— So choose what wakes. [VERSE 2 — RHYTHM-LED DELIVERY] There was no monster inside the frame, only a child learning everyone’s pain. No devil hiding beneath the skin— just every door we refused to enter, every life we never let begin. The dead weren’t asking to live again. They were asking: “Will you remember what killed us then?” [PRE-CHORUS] What do you grow? What do you deny? How many futures wear yesterday’s eyes? [CHORUS] THE MIRROR PLANTS TOMORROW WITH EVERYTHING WE DO TODAY. Every wound becomes a window. Every word becomes a blade. If we keep feeding the sorrow, we shouldn’t fear what sorrow makes. THE MIRROR PLANTS TOMORROW— So choose what wakes. [BRIDGE — HORROR SAX ANSWERS THE VOCAL] I am not what happened. [LOW SAX CRY] I am not what they named. [REVERSED SAX PHRASE] I am the hand in the soil. I am the choice that remains. [FALSE END] [CHILD’S VOICE, DISTANT] What will you plant when the mirror breaks? [FINAL CHORUS — BARITONE, THEN FRACTURED DOUBLES] THE MIRROR PLANTS TOMORROW. Not fate. Not God. Not shame. The future grows through every hand that chooses what it will become today. No throne. No crown. No borrowed face. Only the seed. Only the rain. Only the world we decide to make. [OUTRO — ONE GREEN SYNTH NOTE BLOOMS] Look again. The garden has your name.
