[Intro – soft, almost lullaby] They say the world’s still spinning, But it’s spinning off my skin. Every law’s another whisper, Every headline’s “don’t fit in.” So I hum my little anthem, Just to prove I still exist. They built a system out of matches, Then blamed me when it caught fire. [Verse 1 – loud, glitchy, hyperpop-punk burst] You line your pockets with my fear, I’m the spark that lights your towers. Smile for the camera, vote for pain, Promise safety, sell disdain. My name’s a talking point on screen, My rights are trending — cheap caffeine. You call it freedom, I call it debt, You call it order, I call it threat. [Pre-Chorus – half-yelled] And I’m just trying to make rent, While you’re selling mercy by the cent. [Chorus – back to soft, resigned tone] I breathe, they say that’s lucky. I sleep, they call that grace. I keep my head down quiet, To stay in my own place. And maybe that’s survival, Or maybe it’s routine. Either way I’m learning How to live between disasters. [Verse 2 – second drop, faster, raw] You call it policy, I call it chokehold. “Protect the people,” but the script’s old. You pray for peace, then arm the guards, Count the profits, sell the shards. Doctors glance, their eyes go dim, Write my fear off as a whim. Pharmacist says “out of stock,” But I hear “stay in your box.” [Bridge – spoken, frantic, almost ranted] If I disappear, you’ll say it’s tragic, But tragedy makes good traffic. You’ll quote my story, call it change, Then move on when it’s out of range. I keep my head down, pray they pass, They say it’s law— I call it glass. [Final Chorus – soft → explosion → silence] I breathe, they say that’s lucky. I sleep, they call that grace. I keep my head down quiet, To stay in my own place. But I’m still here, and I’m still burning, In the gears that keep you clean. If you ever feel that heat — Don’t say you didn’t see me.
