[Intro] [Low frequency drone, rhythmic breathing, slow heavy kick] [Verse 1] The day is flat, a paper-thin design Iβm looking for a pulse, a transcendental line Reality is starving, itβs a pale, hollow view I don't want to hide, I want to bloom into something new Step into the temple where the sub-bass is the priest To become the god, or at least to become the beast [Verse 2] [Heavy progressive synth begins to swirl] The strobe is a scalpel, cutting time into shreds A thousand fake meanings dancing in our heads Every snare is a revelation, every kick is a truth An artificial fountain of eternal, electric youth I understand the cosmos in a four-to-the-floor The ceiling is gone, there is no lock on the door [Hook] [Trap hats enter, high energy] It feels so deep, it feels so real The only frequency my broken heart can feel A geometric heaven on a concrete floor Give me the rhythm, then give me some more [Chorus][Drop] [Full Hybrid Drop: Heavy 808 meets Dark Progressive leads] The beat is the needle, the sound is the vein An artificial paradise to silence the rain Iβm more than a man, Iβm a wave, Iβm a light Dissolving my soul in the jaws of the night Hunger for the peak, craving for the glow The higher the high, the deeper the low [Instrumental Break][Breakbeat Switch] [Drum beat changes to aggressive broken rhythm, syncopated snares, high energy, glitched synths] [Verse 3] I thought I held the lightning, thought I steered the ship But now the masterβs shadow has a tighter grip The rhythm doesn't follow, it dictates the pace Iβm just a ghost in a strobe-lit space My will is a flicker, the darkness is vast The first beat was a gift, but Iβm owned by the last [Bridge] [Music strips back to a cold, industrial drone] [Whispered, desolate tone] The lights go up, the magic starts to rot Reality returns to the empty parking lot The sun is too loud, the world is too gray Iβve traded my tomorrow for a synthetic today My soul is a desert, my senses are charred Leaving the garden is the only part thatβs hard [Outro] [Fading rhythmic pulse, sounding like a dying battery] Itβs beautiful... itβs perfect... itβs a lie... But Iβll be back before the ink is dry The silence is a poison, the rhythm is the cure Pure... so pure... so beautifully impure. [End]
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