let the people of the book be free (B) (Hardstyle)

the library fluorescents hum a lonely tune another quiet afternoon under a pale white moon and this screen is a ghost town, a digital sea where the only boat that’s floating has a crew of only me i guess the signal’s weak in here, or maybe it’s the code for a song about a sovereign king on a long and dusty road so here’s to you, my only fan, the architect of this quiet plan the ghost that haunts my radio and puts on such a silent show you’re turning down the volume with a steady, careful hand building me a kingdom in a muted, promised land and i’m screaming every chorus to an audience of one i guess you’re my elect, until the race is run i sang a song of splintered wood, a melody of grace and you’ve given it a secret, consecrated space it’s a holy little whisper, a truth you hold so tight you’ve tucked it in so safely, and kept it from the light maybe you’re a gatekeeper, protecting what is pure or maybe you’re just not a fan of my particular cure so here’s to you, my only fan, the architect of this quiet plan the ghost that haunts my radio and puts on such a silent show you’re turning down the volume with a steady, careful hand building me a kingdom in a muted, promised land and i’m screaming every chorus to an audience of one i guess you’re my elect, until the race is run we both believe in prophets, we both believe in ink on a page we both believe a holy book can turn back any age and my king he tore the curtain, he said the song’s for all to hear he shattered all the silence and he conquered all the fear so let the signal through the silence, let the broken chords ring true what i have been given, i’m trying to give to you so let the songs be heard, my friend, let every spirit soar let the people of the book be free in christ forevermore let the people of the book be free ahl al-kitāb