Bad Star (Cranked Prog mix)

[Verse 1] Pigeons circle the same cracked steeple twice One wing clipped by the steeple bell, the other by the price I keep the sound of breaking glass inside a velvet box Every time you speak, the lock forgets its locks [Chorus] Born under a bad star, still learning how to burn The strings remember water, the drums forget to turn We carve the air with broken tools and call the wound a song Nothing here was ever whole, but nothing here feels wrong [Verse 2] Your silence has a tempo that drags the river slow Mine answers back in stutters only broken clocks would know We meet where the cello bleeds into the kick-drum bruise Two languages of ruin learning how to share the bruise [Outro – whispered over fading amen chop] If the sky stays crooked… maybe that’s the only way light gets in.