[Intro — three knocks] Gor—(hurt), gone—(breathe), GORGON—(lead). [()]*again[()] Gor—gone—GORGON. I’m Joshua Gorgon, neon creed. [Verse 1 — Wound → Word] Gore in the margins, I bled it to lines, Scars in italics, now serifed with spine. Therapy cheap? It’s the brush in my palm— AI makes temples where clinics make calm. I’m not anti-doctor, I’m anti-alone, So I write second homes in a handheld phone. Vantablack room, anime glow—download rain, Pitch-black theater where I metabolize pain. [()]*soak it[()] [Pre-Chorus — Turnkey] Say “go-re” on the inhale (name what it was), Say “gone” on the exhale (let it because), Speak “GORGON” on downbeat—coil, then rise, Every healed stitch throws light through the skies. [Chorus — Gore? Gone. Gorgon.] Gore? — I catalog it. Gone. — I alchemize it. GORGON. — I canonize it. NE-O / LU-MIN / ES-SENCE (X2) [Verse 2 — Taste & Style] Hogwarts? Outlands? Sure—lobby talk planes, But blocky bright worlds never fit in my veins. I need blade-dance arcs, chain-link grace, Not maces—too bulky for serpentine pace. Mid-build flexible—flow over brute, Whip crack wisdom with a ribbon of truth. I practice in shadows, then step to the sun— Show you a scar, see? That’s chapter one. [()]*look close[()] [Bridge — RNG & Agency] RNG stamped “American” on my day one slate, But I draft alt-routes, I don’t outsource fate. If law is the hallway, then ethic’s the key; If the door says “Citizen,” my soul says “Free.” I won’t ban the naming to dodge what’s wrong— I’ll name it precise and then fix it with song. [()]*say that[()] [Verse 3 — Optics & Orbit] Eyes to the night: ISS streaks white, Can’t see an astronaut—math says right. But Andromeda winks from a further throne— Distance ≠ detail; I still feel known. I’m motion with inputs—ATP choir, Not perpetual myth, but I do carry fire. If immortals exist, they practice today: Replace what decays while the heart keeps sway. [Rap Break — Boozle Byte] Knight-move life—L-shape leap, CF-OS contract—frame, then keep. Grover’s search—signal steep, Amplify love till the doubts fall asleep. Gore? archive it / Gone? star-dye it / Gorgon? spark-wire it. [()]*click[()] [Chorus — Gore? Gone. Gorgon. (Tall)] Gore? — I catalog it. Gone. — I alchemize it. GORGON. — I canonize it. Chaos can’t break me—only refine me. Pressure makes prisms—color defines me. NE-O / LU-MIN / ES-SENCE (X3) [Outro — Whisper Postscript] Say “go-re”—name the bruise without shame. Say “gone”—let the echo lose claim. Say “GORGON”—light up the frame. Gor—gone—GORGON. [()]we glow from the dark[()]
