Verse 1 They came to fix the broken engine of the age, all the elegant diagrams, the variety, the law, and when the world refused to bend the way they planned they blamed the market, blamed the metric, blamed the unseen hand. But the finger pointing outward has another three points home — maybe the failure had a famous face and a statue of its own. Chorus So to hell with the luminaries, take the portraits off the wall. The body is a system long before it knows a thing at all. To hell with the great men, their titles and their towers — I'd rather wear my knowing lightly than carry it like power. Verse 2 The students who won't fit the grid, the ones the system failed, the ones who got their edges sanded, got their wild selves jailed — they're the ones who feel it, in the gut before the head, they lived the loop inside their skin while the prizewinners read. 'Cause you're a self-correcting, self-aware, alive, and no diploma made you — you were already wired to survive. Bridge Freedom-loving, knowing that you know, watching your own watching as you go. This was never about the names, the founders or the fame — it was love, it was attention, calling each thing by its proper name. Outro So to hell with the luminaries, not the wisdom — just the crown. Keep the questions, lose the pedestal, let the idols tumble down. We are freedom, we are feedback, we are love that learns and turns — and the lightest thing to carry is the only thing that burns.
