Drip. Drip again. It burns, I breathe, I let you in. White-hot truth upon my skin, The code of pain beneath the sin. You hold the flame, I close my eyes My nerves ignite, my silence cries Each drop a seal, each scar a vow You mark me — I surrender now CHORUS Melt me. Brand me. Claim me in heat. Wax is the truth when flesh wants to speak. Sacred and filthy, sacred and pure — Each drop is a promise I’m ready to endure. Melt me. Blind me. Cover me slow. The wax writes the answer you want me to know. You light the wick with steady hands No need for ropes, no need for plans The drip obeys, it flows divine A sacred mess across my spine Is it wax or is it seed? Is it ritual or just need? Does it matter what it means When it makes me drop and plead? BRIDGE (spoken / vocoder) White heat. Slow stream. Not pain — a code. Not filth — a dream. It marks. It binds. It seals what hides. A prayer of flesh, A flood that blinds. FINAL CHORUS Melt me. Claim me. Code me in white. I open wide to kiss the light. Each drip divine, each sting adored — With every burn, I beg for more.
