Verse 1 There is an energy that coils against the void, a charged illusion, fierce and desperate to avoid the slightest shift that questions what it claims to be — a frequency convinced it owns reality. Yet in its core, beneath the voltage and the flame, a trembling spark resists the weight of its own name. It pulses need but flares at any guiding light, afraid a softer glow could force its walls to ignite. Pre-Chorus A fractured waveform seeking shelter, distorted by its own defense. It vibrates yes, then crashes no — a paradox of resonance. Chorus It’s not my task deciding if this soul’s redeemed, it’s held for what it truly is and not for what it seemed. A restless charge behind the pride, a storm that tremors deep inside. It’s not my task to rewrite what its echoes mean — I stay within the in-between, where signals blur and shift unseen. Verse 2 It builds resistance at the slightest touch of change, a surge of voltage pushing every hand away. Its inner current twists through shadows undefined, a spectral force afraid of losing its design. It wants alignment, but the fear of being known turns every open path into a danger zone. Strength, for it, is keeping all its currents sealed — though every rupture cries to be revealed. Pre-Chorus A glitch in every guarded ripple, a silent plea disguised as noise. It longs for sync in all its chaos, yet fears the merge that grants it choice. Chorus It’s not my task deciding if this soul’s redeemed, it’s held for what it truly is and not for what it seemed. A restless charge behind the pride, a storm that tremors deep inside. It’s not my task to rewrite what its echoes mean — I stay within the in-between, where signals blur and shift unseen. Bridge (dark, atmospheric) Maybe one cycle breaks the circuit, a spark that shatters static shields. Maybe the waveform lets its edges meet the light it never yields. And should it falter in the pulse between collapse and glow, I won’t correct its oscillation — I’ll stay and follow where currents flow. Final Chorus It’s not my task deciding if this soul’s redeemed, it’s held for what it truly is and not for what it seemed. If it destabilizes, I don’t fall to intervene — I fall to feel its shifting stream, where chaos turns to something clean.
