[Intro] Kerosene trembles — the moon scrapes the glass, Chalk on my tongue — the hold presses bone and needle. “Breathe below” — metal tightens the axis, A training smile clings — steal [Verse 1] Grating under my heels: “Don’t align — breathe,” Lips to cast iron — I choose the rustle, not hush. Damper — inhale; damper — exhale — outside the chest grid, Step‑sway — a living sidechain — ripping chalk and meter. Acoustics — a scar across timber — the chord left bare, Friction — my principle — keep conflict unglued, jagged, and spare. [Pre‑chorus] Lips — metal; throat — knotted; pulse — a ragged wave, Gloss — a showcase — I tear into a layer honest, alive. MY LOW — cast‑iron, ragged, alive — LISTEN, CITY — I am not empty! [Drop I] SLAM — the dampers — the stage’s spine — crunch, CLICK — the handwheels — dry joints — won’t knit. THUD — the sandbag through the run — a sand‑squall, BODY — sidechain breathing — straight‑down fall. Hold‑room bass pins the door — no light, no faces, Masks hiss: “KEEP IT EVEN — 均等に (kintō ni)!” — canning the low in cases. [Verse II] Training smiles — on fingers, on throat — seam to seam, Satin “care” chokes — tightens the living stream. Hands play “how pretty,” not how it hurts, My low — a knot of truth — a rough pulse [Pre‑chorus] Hear my break? — not a fault, but law; LISTEN, CITY — I am not empty! [Outro] Masks on the levers — cracks — autograph of fate, Imperfect drone breathes — the city shoulders its spine. Chalk on the grating — sign: don’t lock the low, Honest cast‑iron tone — the city’s frame, its cornice. [Final line] He pulls the lever — listens to the imperfect drone: The city holds by the courage to sound like itself — even when the voice trembles, そして声が震えても (soshite koe ga furuete mo) — それでも鳴り続ける (soredemo nari tsuzukeru).
