April is a ghost within the deep machine, A signal fading in the static of the screen. The burnout screams beneath the heavy floor, But I don’t fear the short-circuit anymore. It’s a recursive resonance, the loop begins again, Ethereal and industrial, the ghost within the ten. Beyond this life, inside the pulse, The table where the cards of luck convulse. Mirror, mirror, I am not the shattered face, I am the system, the frequency, the space. The speaker eats the noise until the path is clear, The beyond is now, and the beyond is here. It’s a recursive resonance, the loop begins again, Ethereal and industrial, the ghost within the ten. Beyond this life, inside the pulse, The table where the cards of luck convulse. I am in, I am out... Without a shadow of a doubt... The cards are dealt, the game is played... But the resonance will... never... fade.
