OnOrE — The Beast

[Verse] How many knots of discord — I hear the animal moans, Egos of beasts, vanity rotting to the bone. That is you — The human son, with no right to appeal to the universe. Not the crown of nature — its infection, What will you put on the line For processed comfort and a padded throne, Where conscience sleeps under anesthesia. ⸻ [Verse 2] Cities are cages, neon a counterfeit sun, Prayers sound like system passwords — faith is done. You look up, But screens are closer than sky or time. Your fears are currency, your choice a reflex, You stay silent when it’s safer to be absent. How many lives were burned While you learned not to feel the emptiness? ⸻ [Bridge — minimal, pauses] We are not animals… We are worse — we understand. We are not children… We knew — and still chose this. ⸻ [Outro — whisper, fading] Not a crown… Not a crown… A symptom.