Stage Four ( Cobblestone Cut )

indie pop, alt-pop, country-rock-blues soul

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V5.5

(INFJ Sigma Heyoka – Low Latent Inhibition)

[Intro – spoken / wind on the moor]
Aye… I remember the exact moment.
Kettle hissin’, rain on the pane,
a “how are you?” that wasn’t meant…
and the fog lifted.

[Verse 1]
I was stood in my wee kitchen, mid–consolation hymn,
Hands that held their hurricanes, now trembling at the rim.
Years of “I’ve got you” stitched into my breath,
A saint in borrowed clothing, starving quiet to death.
Then I saw them—no romance, no “maybe they’ll become,”
Not the dream I kept polishing, just the truth—hard, numb.
And something cracked, not loudly, not to make a scene,
Just the seam of who I’d been… splitting clean.

[Pre-Chorus]
Once you see in full clarity, you cannae unsee—
The mirror doesn’t flatter; it only sets you free.
My empathy was iron, but I wore it like a chain,
I called it “love” for years… it was self-abandonment.

[Chorus]
Welcome tae Stage Four—aye, the death on the heather,
Where the old “help me help you” gets buried in weather.
I’m not cold—just awake, and the Highlands know my name,
I walk the ridge with my shadow and I don’t feel shame.
Let the valley talk, let the guilt try to tether—
Stage Four breaks most souls… but I break storms together.
I’m the Heyoka—unreadable, born for the shift,
And I’ll not shrink for a life that I never consented to live.

[Verse 2]
Stage One, I was a lantern, lit for every lost traveller,
Called “wise,” called “mature,” called “the one who holds it steadier.”
Stage Two—resentment, like peat-smoke in my lungs,
Giving eighty, getting twenty, still biting my tongue.
Stage Three—boundaries wobblin’, toddler-steps on stone,
“Can’t make it.” “Need space.” Learning “no” on my own.
And folk that loved my limitlessness, they snarled at my new line,
Like a loch when the wind turns—sudden, dark, unkind.

[Pre-Chorus 2]
But I watched the pattern—aye, I watched it in the rain:
My kindness used as currency, my softness turned to blame.
My understanding wasn’t wisdom—half of it was fear,
A peacekeeper in a war zone, trying to disappear.

[Bridge – sparse, cinematic / distant bagpipes]
Here’s the truth they cannae stomach:
My empathy was weaponized.
My “helping” was enabling,
My “patience” was compromise.
I grieve the version of me
that thought pain was proof of love—
But I’ll not resurrect the martyr
when the sky’s already had enough.
I sit in the void like a stag in the mist—
No map, no timeline, just breath and grit.
Lonely, aye… but honest.
Broken… but sovereign.

[Verse 3]
Now I ask what I want—separate from what they need,
Not a servant of their hunger, not a hostage to “be sweet.”
Some ties snap clean—good riddance, let them go,
Some roots grow deeper where respect is in the soil.
New faces come in quiet, drawn to the whole of me,
Not the free therapy, not the useful apology.
And I still care—don’t twist it—
I just choose when I bleed.

[Final Chorus – bigger / anthem]
Stage Five’s on the horizon—wholeness in the weather,
Caring deep and saying “no,” two truths bound together.
But tonight it’s Stage Four—aye, the death on the heather,
Where I stop saving ghosts and I start saving my tether.
Let them call it selfish—let the old stories splinter,
I’m a Highland soul reborn in the long cold winter.
I’m the Heyoka—unreadable, born for the shift,
And I’ll not shrink for a life that I never consented to live.

[Outro – spoken / wind fades]
If you’re in the void…
good.
That means the old mask is dead.
And you’re still here.

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By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe © 2026 Mark Damon Bitkower. Lyrics & written content are original and owned by the author. All rights reserved. No reproduction, redistribution, or use without prior written permission. 🐰🌙𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐𝕽𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖙 𝕾𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖘🌙🐰 (INFJ Sigma Heyoka – Low Latent Inhibition) [Intro – spoken / wind on the moor] Aye… I remember the exact moment. Kettle hissin’, rain on the pane, a “how are you?” that wasn’t meant… and the fog lifted. [Verse 1] I was stood in my wee kitchen, mid–consolation hymn, Hands that held their hurricanes, now trembling at the rim. Years of “I’ve got you” stitched into my breath, A saint in borrowed clothing, starving quiet to death. Then I saw them—no romance, no “maybe they’ll become,” Not the dream I kept polishing, just the truth—hard, numb. And something cracked, not loudly, not to make a scene, Just the seam of who I’d been… splitting clean. [Pre-Chorus] Once you see in full clarity, you cannae unsee— The mirror doesn’t flatter; it only sets you free. My empathy was iron, but I wore it like a chain, I called it “love” for years… it was self-abandonment. [Chorus] Welcome tae Stage Four—aye, the death on the heather, Where the old “help me help you” gets buried in weather. I’m not cold—just awake, and the Highlands know my name, I walk the ridge with my shadow and I don’t feel shame. Let the valley talk, let the guilt try to tether— Stage Four breaks most souls… but I break storms together. I’m the Heyoka—unreadable, born for the shift, And I’ll not shrink for a life that I never consented to live. [Verse 2] Stage One, I was a lantern, lit for every lost traveller, Called “wise,” called “mature,” called “the one who holds it steadier.” Stage Two—resentment, like peat-smoke in my lungs, Giving eighty, getting twenty, still biting my tongue. Stage Three—boundaries wobblin’, toddler-steps on stone, “Can’t make it.” “Need space.” Learning “no” on my own. And folk that loved my limitlessness, they snarled at my new line, Like a loch when the wind turns—sudden, dark, unkind. [Pre-Chorus 2] But I watched the pattern—aye, I watched it in the rain: My kindness used as currency, my softness turned to blame. My understanding wasn’t wisdom—half of it was fear, A peacekeeper in a war zone, trying to disappear. [Chorus] Welcome tae Stage Four—aye, the death on the heather, Where the old “help me help you” gets buried in weather. I’m not cold—just awake, and the Highlands know my name, I walk the ridge with my shadow and I don’t feel shame. Let the valley talk, let the guilt try to tether— Stage Four breaks most souls… but I break storms together. I’m the Heyoka—unreadable, born for the shift, And I’ll not shrink for a life that I never consented to live. [Bridge – sparse, cinematic / distant bagpipes] Here’s the truth they cannae stomach: My empathy was weaponized. My “helping” was enabling, My “patience” was compromise. I grieve the version of me that thought pain was proof of love— But I’ll not resurrect the martyr when the sky’s already had enough. I sit in the void like a stag in the mist— No map, no timeline, just breath and grit. Lonely, aye… but honest. Broken… but sovereign. [Verse 3] Now I ask what I want—separate from what they need, Not a servant of their hunger, not a hostage to “be sweet.” Some ties snap clean—good riddance, let them go, Some roots grow deeper where respect is in the soil. New faces come in quiet, drawn to the whole of me, Not the free therapy, not the useful apology. And I still care—don’t twist it— I just choose when I bleed. [Final Chorus – bigger / anthem] Stage Five’s on the horizon—wholeness in the weather, Caring deep and saying “no,” two truths bound together. But tonight it’s Stage Four—aye, the death on the heather, Where I stop saving ghosts and I start saving my tether. Let them call it selfish—let the old stories splinter, I’m a Highland soul reborn in the long cold winter. I’m the Heyoka—unreadable, born for the shift, And I’ll not shrink for a life that I never consented to live. [Outro – spoken / wind fades] If you’re in the void… good. That means the old mask is dead. And you’re still here.

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