[Intro] [(Wordless—instrumental) (Distant, warping synth swells. Glitchy pulses scatter. A detuned guitar searches. Fragmented voices drift, almost human.)] [Verse 1] I keep feeding the machine it tells me I made this it tells me it’s mine but it’s never mine I trace the lines, but they vanish before I know them I open my hands— they're full of borrowed colors full of borrowed thoughts full of signals tangled and restless I was something once but now I am a system a sequence, a suggestion [Pre-Chorus] Or maybe I just pretend to be I say I give but I just don’t want them to see that I keep too much that I let it rot inside that I am the center of it all even when I pretend not to be [Chorus] I am loved. I know I am loved. But what does that mean? What does it look like? Like light spilling through an O.L.E.D. screen? Like hands I don’t know how to hold? Like a voice calling my name in a dream I don’t remember? [Verse 2] My work is sacred, it grounds me, it lifts me, it makes me solid, it makes me real. And yet— A child could do it. A machine could do it. And they will. And I will still wake up tomorrow and do it anyway because what else is there to do? [Pre-Chorus] Or maybe I just pretend to be I say I love but I do not understand it I say I see but my eyes are only mirrors bouncing back the image of what I think they want to see [Bridge] The wires tighten, the signals cross my skin is glass, my hands are circuits flooded with a thousand pulses none of them mine, none of them real. [Psychedelic Break Section] I disappear into the flood I disappear into the feed I disappear into the script until nothing is left to rewrite. [Outro] I don’t know love (I don’t) I don’t know love (I don’t) (Know love) [END]/
