Welcome to the family business, ladies and gentlemen! Where love is measured in equity, and tax deductions grow on trees! I had a home... but I didn’t have it. I was never homeless on paper... only in reality! I still remember that morning in my house, the front door open, the sun coming in! The smell of my things, my skin in that space, before it split into other people's hands! Now my children say I smell different— like a wood stove, like damp walls! Like an estate left too long, like something that used to be alive! A smell that is not me, but a ghost placed over me! I had properties! I had keys! Papers with my name on them! But guess what? NO ACCESS! Money passed through my hands, tax was taken as if it were mine! And then it was withdrawn again... behind my back... by my mother! "Thanks for the cash, sweetie!" It was called family... But it was economic abuse! Systematic! Repeated! Calculated! Accountant approved! ...Audit the system. FUCK-TI-BUG-PHILOSOPHY, VERSION 9.0! I am my mother’s tax deduction, let the matrix grow! The equity keeps rising, while I disappear from the equation! Nothing is new, just repetition in new packaging! You can dress it up in velvet, you can hide it under gold, But the accounting is rotten, and the silence has been told! I lean my head back into the sun... like I used to. Close my eyes, and remember a body without weight, fresh sheets, clean skin. A life before it was rewritten into someone else’s gain. But she did not stop... No, she did not stop until someone stopped her! She even emptied my father’s estates. While dementia slowly took him, and his entire life... became access codes! Now we are in court, professor! Welcome to the Sunday dress trial! How are you doing? ...under the circumstances? Where is your utility room? Where do you put your shoes? I can barely afford shoes anymore! But it doesn’t matter! Why doesn't it matter? Because I like walking barefoot! The ground is the only thing... that cannot be taken from me! TOOK—TAK! ACCESS DENIED! REBOOT THE FAMILY PHOTOGRAPH! I became homeless inside something that still stood. A home... emptied from within. I pay the price in silence while the spreadsheets glow. But paper remembers. And paper bleeds. No more masks. No more games. The container is broken. Tax deduction! Tax deduction! Access codes! Access codes! Scar Clan! Ark Clan! Hit the rhythm! FUCK-TI-BUG-PHILOSOPHY, VERSION 9.0! I am my mother’s tax deduction, watch the empire go! The fortress is falling, it was hollow from the start! You built your castles out of paper, but paper has a heart! Stress becomes source code, economic abuse becomes a beat, The Scar Tribe is walking barefoot, dancing in the street! The lockbox is wide open. The equity is gone. I am out of the equation. But the soundtrack... the soundtrack is beautiful.
