Basement Gospel II

[Intro – Spoken, distorted echo FX] “This is not music… This is therapy for the unfixable. A sermon from somewhere below forgiveness— No light. No witnesses. No God listening.” [Verse 1] I was born where the silence hums under floors, First breath felt borrowed, like it wasn’t mine to afford, Cut loose from the start, something followed me home, Now it whispers in a language I don’t fully own. I ain’t a rapper, I’m a symptom with sound, Static in the skull, make the whole room drown, Every bar like a wire wrapped tight round thought, Pull it just enough, now the truth comes out. Mirror don’t match what I see in my head, Every glance feel delayed, like I’m already dead, And the voice in my chest don’t speak, it directs: “Don’t fix what you are. Let it spread instead.” [Hook] (Chanted, heavy) This the basement gospel, carved in the dark, Where the silence screams and it leaves its mark. No safe space, no filter, no light— Just me and the echo that don’t feel right. This the basement gospel, truth gone wrong, Every breath feel borrowed, don’t last too long. No peace signs, no prayers, no help— Just a sermon I deliver to myself. [Verse 2] I been sittin’ with shadows that answer me back, They don’t move their lips but they stay intact, Every step I take got a second delay, Like the world buffering while I decay. Found a halo once, but it wouldn’t stay gold, Turned grey in my grip, then it started to fold, Now it hangs in the corner, watching me sleep, Like it knows what I did but it don’t wanna speak. I don’t trust what I feel, I don’t trust what I hear, Even silence got weight when it lingers too near, And the deeper I go, the more I accept— Some doors ain’t meant to be left unchecked. [Hook] This the basement gospel, carved in the dark, Where the silence screams and it leaves its mark. No safe space, no filter, no light— Just me and the echo that don’t feel right. This the basement gospel, truth gone wrong, Every breath feel borrowed, don’t last too long. No peace signs, no prayers, no help— Just a sermon I deliver to myself. [Verse 3 – Slower, unraveling] They keep sayin’ I’m better, but lock every door, Smile when I speak, then they write something more, I read it backwards—don’t like what it says, Think I’m healing, but I’m losing the thread. Sleep don’t come, it just watches instead, Sits at the edge like it knows what I said, Every dream feel staged, every thought rehearsed, Like I’m not the author—just playin’ the curse. Don’t tell me ‘bout peace, I don’t speak that tone, I been alone so long it feels like home, And if this is fixed, then I don’t want well— ’Cause Heaven went quiet and I learned that well. [Final Hook – More intense] This the basement gospel, no way out, Where the quiet builds till it turns to doubt. No halo, no hope, no light, just weight— Just me and the voice I can’t translate. This the basement gospel, etched in scars, Every thought misfires, every line leaves marks. Don’t pray for me—I won’t respond, I’ve been down here too long to belong. [Outro – Spoken, fading] “You call it broken… I call it consistent. You call it darkness… I call it honest. This isn’t music. This is what happens when nothing gets fixed.”