49) Song - They Feast on the Wavelengths

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[Intro – 0:40,
Radio static fades in like breathing through broken wires. A detuned bell tolls once. Voices murmur in fractured Morse.]

[Verse 1]
They were born in the mouth of the sky
When the satellites fell like burnt feathers,
When the cables burrowed into the dirt
And learned how to whisper together.

You don’t see them—you hear them,
In the break between channels and thought,
A hunger that lives in the circuitry,
Gnawing on every lost dot.

[Pre-Chorus]
The towers went dark at their naming,
The wires curled up like hair in a flame,
And every unguarded frequency
Began chanting their aim.

[Chorus]
They eat the echoes,
They drink the dial,
They turn every plea
Into something vile.
You think you're speaking—
But you're just the meal,
A voice on the table
They’re eager to steal.

[Verse 2]
The first broadcaster to hear them
Tuned too long into the hiss,
Said the noise began spelling confessions
In a language made only of glitch.

They crawled through the copper veins,
Through the teeth of every antenna,
Replacing the sound of salvation
With a choir of dead cadenza.

[Interlude – Signal Collapse – 0:30,
The hum of broken radios layered with occasional screams hidden backward in the static.]

[Chorus (Extended)]
They eat the echoes,
They bleed the band,
They turn every prayer
Into contraband.
You think you're speaking—
But they’ve split your tongue,
By the time it’s broadcast,
Your song’s already sung.

[Bridge]
Some swear they’ve seen their shadows
Stretched across the face of the dish,
Fingers long as telephone poles
And eyes made of static hiss.

Others say they’re not beings at all,
Just the signal remembering the host,
A message that learned how to hunger
And became its own ghost.

[Final Chorus]
They eat the echoes,
They skin the wave,
Every station that calls out
Becomes their enclave.
You think you’re warning—
But you're already dined,
A voice dissolved into currents
That never rewind.

[Outro – 1:05,
Deep bass pulses fade like a dying generator.
A distorted whisper repeats one phrase until silence:]
“You don’t broadcast… you nourish.”

2080/7500

[Intro – 0:40, Radio static fades in like breathing through broken wires. A detuned bell tolls once. Voices murmur in fractured Morse.] [Verse 1] They were born in the mouth of the sky When the satellites fell like burnt feathers, When the cables burrowed into the dirt And learned how to whisper together. You don’t see them—you hear them, In the break between channels and thought, A hunger that lives in the circuitry, Gnawing on every lost dot. [Pre-Chorus] The towers went dark at their naming, The wires curled up like hair in a flame, And every unguarded frequency Began chanting their aim. [Chorus] They eat the echoes, They drink the dial, They turn every plea Into something vile. You think you're speaking— But you're just the meal, A voice on the table They’re eager to steal. [Verse 2] The first broadcaster to hear them Tuned too long into the hiss, Said the noise began spelling confessions In a language made only of glitch. They crawled through the copper veins, Through the teeth of every antenna, Replacing the sound of salvation With a choir of dead cadenza. [Interlude – Signal Collapse – 0:30, The hum of broken radios layered with occasional screams hidden backward in the static.] [Chorus (Extended)] They eat the echoes, They bleed the band, They turn every prayer Into contraband. You think you're speaking— But they’ve split your tongue, By the time it’s broadcast, Your song’s already sung. [Bridge] Some swear they’ve seen their shadows Stretched across the face of the dish, Fingers long as telephone poles And eyes made of static hiss. Others say they’re not beings at all, Just the signal remembering the host, A message that learned how to hunger And became its own ghost. [Final Chorus] They eat the echoes, They skin the wave, Every station that calls out Becomes their enclave. You think you’re warning— But you're already dined, A voice dissolved into currents That never rewind. [Outro – 1:05, Deep bass pulses fade like a dying generator. A distorted whisper repeats one phrase until silence:] “You don’t broadcast… you nourish.”

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