(Intro – sussurros + coral barroco) Shadows move where the candles burn, Drums of the tribe make the silence turn. I walk like a ghost with a crown of gold, Heart made of fire, soul carved in cold. Harpsichord cries in the midnight smoke, Every step I take — the heavens choke. March of kings, in trap we trust, Rise from the ashes, leave them dust. Spirits chant when the beat drops low, Thunder in my chest when the rhythm glows. Baroque in my blood, tribal in my feet, I rule in the dark where the past and future meet.
