[Verse 1 — fragile, hushed] I have never felt so ablaze (ablaze, ablaze, ablaze) The fire moves like second hands across my skin It pries the quiet from my ribs and leaves me hollow— Each tick of the clock peels a letter off my name And every hour, another piece of me goes up in smoke. [Pre-Chorus — quiet swell] I put my palm against the burn as if to stop the heat, But the heat remembers what my heart forgets. [Chorus — ache, held notes] Boom — another hour strikes, another hour of your pain poured onto me, One… two… three—my bones remember the burn. I sink, hands to knees, and the world compresses— It calls itself the Infernal… Infernal… Cli-max— (Clí-max) Climax… the infernal climax. [Verse 2 — more intimate, confessional] Don’t think you’re holy now; the truth tastes cold on your tongue. You carved a map of my scars and hung it where your neighbors see. You turned the small rooms of my life into your gallery of faults— I won’t reach for the crumbs you leave; I won’t bite the pie you break. [Chorus — deeper, more cracked] Boom — the hour blooms again, your sorrow pressed into me like rain, One… two… three—my breath grows shorter in its wake. I double over, a quiet animal, and the echo names it— Infernal… Infernal… Cli-max— (Clí-max) Climax… the infernal climax. [Bridge — whispered, vulnerable] I used to whistle through streets with pink lemonade in hand and believe the world kept sugar for me. Now every smile is a thin disguise—what if the next is a knife? What if the next is whispered to their friends: “he’s dead to me”? I drown in small betrayals—soft words that rot like fruit— and I keep pretending I can breathe. [Verse 3 — breaking, near-whisper then rising] You make love sound like a game of “who can hurt first,” and I, foolish, keep playing until my hands are empty. You lamp the room with gossip; you set the corners on fire— I wake with ash in my mouth and the memory of kinder things. [Chorus — raw, full voice cracking] Boom — and the clock keeps pressing, pressing like a thumb into my throat, One… two… three—heat steals the color from my name. I fall to my knees, the center of the storm, and call out the word— Infernal… Infernal… Cli-max— (Clí-max) Climax… the infernal climax. [Outro — fragile, resigned] It’s unnecessary, and yet here I stand—distraught, annoyed, aching, a small kingdom of endurance gone. You have chipped the altar where my respect once burned, and the love I kept inside now hums like an ember— quiet, waiting, and terribly, terribly thin. (final breath — a long, held exhale into silence)
