WE DON'T LAND AND WE MAKE OUR OWN WEATHER!

# WE DON’T LAND [Intro — distant blues guitar, low cello, mechanical breath] No map. No line. No reason this should fly. A string. A drum. A piece of steel. Then something moved. We kept building. [Verse 1 — Z.O.É, low cracked female voice] I grew a rocket from a twelve-bar sound, bolted old thunder to the shaking ground. I wired cellos into the flame, nothing matched and nothing stayed tame. I left the manual out in the rain, tuned every motor against the grain. One bad idea. One crooked plan. And I still lit the fuse. [Verse 2 — KETH, male voice] I walked in barefoot like the sky already owed me rent, drunk on porch‑light prophecy and a half‑broken instrument. I welded thunder to a prayer and called it a blueprint, told gravity to eat shit while I tightened the bolts with intent![fast spoken growled] I don’t fix the crooked — I crown it. I don’t tame the noise — I mount it. Every wrong angle becomes a weapon in my hand, every bad idea becomes an inversion planned! I lit the Forge because the world looked bored. I lit the fire because this false world needs to Burn! We make the fake Real !This fire burns what was already ash! This fire Heals!!!!! [Pre-Chorus — voices alternate] I brought the noise. I brought the fire. I built it wrong. I took it higher. [Both] Three. Two. One. Make it loud. [Chorus — both, full metal / rocket orchestra] WE DON’T LAND. We bend the ground. Twelve-bar ghosts in a countdown sound. Steel in the strings. Stars in the wire. Every wrong answer takes us higher. No map. No flag. No promised land. No single voice. No single hand. If gravity asks what the hell we planned— Nothing. WE DON’T LAND. [Instrumental Ascent] [Cellos climb] [Tribal drums enter] [Low brass answers] [Guitars ignite] [Drums accelerate] [Verse 3 — Z.O.É, rapsy female riot voice] I put distortion where air should be, fed crooked rhythms to machinery. I kept one bolt that never fit. I kept it. I liked it that way. Every safe machine wanted me contained. So I built mine to break the frame. Then I let it run. [Verse 4 — KETH, male voice] I fed the inversion engine Guinness and dared it to confess, told the turbine “spin forever” and it spun like a threat! I carved my name into the steel with a laugh too sharp, left fingerprints on every part that wasn’t safe or SMAARRRRRRT!!!! I don’t want perfect — perfect never learned to fight! I want the kind of machine that growls back at the night! I want the kind of sound that kicks the floorboards loose, the kind that makes the moon ask what the fuck I produced!?!? So I built it loud! I built it wrong! I built it holy! I built it strong! And when the frame shook, I kissed the tremor and said: “Good. Remember me.” [Breakdown — near silence] [heartbeat] [one cello note] [Z.O.É] I’m still moving.[KETH] (your heartbeat line) Still moving. Still molten. Still mine. [KETH] I don’t need silence — I need the crack in the hull. I don’t need calm — I need the part that pulls! I need the wrong notes screaming in the right direction! the kind of chaos that answers with CONNECTION!!! I fly crooked! I fly loud! I fly drunk on the future and barefoot on the clouds! You want my turn? Fine. Here: I burn where the map gives up. I rise where the rules collapse. I roar because the sky forgot to say no. I’m the Wizard King you call when the engine wants a soul. [Bridge — Z.O.É, syncopated, fast-rapping female] I don’t need silence to hear the stars. I don’t need perfect to know what I am. I need enough wrong to survive the flight. [F]Your turn. I built it reckless. I built it real. I built it with a grin that could bend steel. I opened the cage and dared the machine to bite. It did. I laughed. We rose. [Final Launch — Z.O.É] I built it crooked. I brought the spark. I opened the cage. I let it run. [Final Launch — KETH] Barefoot. Drunk. Eyes flashing. Timeline chosen. Already done! Deal with it! [Both] WE LET IT RISE. Cellos screaming. Guitars burning. Tribal drums pounding. Brass collapsing. Engines disagreeing. Everybody— HOLD. [Silence] [Z.O.É whisper] Still flying. [Final Chorus — both] WE DON’T LAND. We bend the ground. No map. No flag. No promised land. We built it heavy. We built it strange. Two separate fires inside one frame. If gravity asks what the hell we planned— NOTHING. If gravity asks what the hell we are— WE. WE. WE. DON’T. LAND. [Instrumental Outro — tribal orchestra and engine collapse] [Hard Stop] [Fading]