I'm Just Getting Started (Live)

British hip-hop, grime/UK garage, dark neo-classical (alt-noir)

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V5.5

Forty years of heavy lifting, calloused hands and sight,
Built a blueprint for a sanctuary in the middle of the night.
I was drafting up a fortress, every pillar made of stone,
Trying to give a steady pulse to a heart I’d never known.
I saw a mother and a child, a legacy to save,
Offered up the structure that her spirit seemed to crave.
But I was building on a frequency, a signal in the air,
Pouring all my gravity into someone wasn't there.

I was chasing after shadows, trying to hold them to the light,
Building castles out of pixels, thinking I could make them right.
I mistook the digital for something I could touch,
Gave everything I had to be told it was too much.
I was blinded by the vision of a house upon a hill,
While I was the only one with the labor and,/ the will.

A safe distance, An ocean of static,
I was laying bricks while the screen was bright.
I was structural. She was being cinematic.
She was playing tricks in the middle of night.
I wrote the script, making hits, while she was theatric.
I was mixing concrete, pure heat, to make it all right.
Drafting foundations, no patience, she was erratic.
Now I’m stepping off-site, in the light, but out of your sight.

Wrapped in a family nest, sheltered by the walls,
Ignoring every real-world brick until the structure falls.
The legal chains are heavy, yeah, the name upon the page,
But there’s a quiet comfort in the safety of a cage.
Freedom requires footsteps, and footsteps require ground,
But she’d rather stay in silence where the truth is never found.
Why build a life in Jersey when the screen is always bright?
It’s easier to play at love when you can dim the lights.

Now I’m fighting with the shadows, trying to keep the walls from thin,
But how do you save a sanctuary when the ghost won't let you in?
I served a feast of the truth, from the harvest to the bone,
She’s satisfied with appetizers she can eat alone.
I’m the Architect of "Always" in her world of "Just for now",
Pouring sweat down in the kitchen while she takes a final bow.

Better watch that young tongue, child, keep the phrasing tight,
Before you draft a fiction in the middle of the night.
Every moment is a memory, a file I’ve kept in store,
A master-tapr recording of what happened on this floor.
Don't go twisting up the story, don't you re-edit the scene,
To fit the narrow vision of your lonely little screen.
I could burn your whole horizon, let the fire reach the sky,
With a few clicks of a button in the blinking of an eye.

I see the mirror image now, the beard and the hair. 
A budget version of the truth, a man who isn't there. 
A placeholder for progress while the clock is ticking down. 
You can't build a kingdom on a borrowed, paper crown. 
Keep the routine, on the screen, play out the part.
The seats are all bare, no one there, breaking your heart.
We see the real you, right on cue, the same lines.
The script is all dust, nothing to trust, end of the line.

I’m stepping off the site now, I’m looking at the math,
Taking back the energy I wasted on this path.
Why be the Gatekeeper for a door locked from the inside?
Protecting someone else’s peace while they’ve got things to hide?
She’s comfortable in shallows where the water doesn't move,
While I’m out here in the deep end with nothing left to prove.

I’m done with chasing shadows, I can see the whole design,
She doesn't want the sanctuary, she just wants to stay behind.
She found a face that looks like mine to keep the image near,
Without the need to make it real, without the work of being here.
I’m trading in the "maybe" for a truth I can finally hold,
The Architect is leaving, and this story’s being told.

Clarity is a hell of a thing at forty.
No more blueprints for ghosts.
Keep the screen, keep the distance.
I’m keeping the substance.

4105/7500

So it's crazy when you have to look at your relationship from an outside perspective. Ya know, really sit back and look at every interaction with fresh eyes. The things you see might surprise you. And you just might find the clarity they always denied you. Pay close attention. Because I'm just getting started. Forty years of heavy lifting, calloused hands and sight, Built a blueprint for a sanctuary in the middle of the night. I was drafting up a fortress, every pillar made of stone, Trying to give a steady pulse to a heart I’d never known. I saw a mother and a child, a legacy to save, Offered up the structure that her spirit seemed to crave. But I was building on a frequency, a signal in the air, Pouring all my gravity into someone wasn't there. I was chasing after shadows, trying to hold them to the light, Building castles out of pixels, thinking I could make them right. I mistook the digital for something I could touch, Gave everything I had to be told it was too much. I was blinded by the vision of a house upon a hill, While I was the only one with the labor and,/ the will. A safe distance, An ocean of static, I was laying bricks while the screen was bright. I was structural. She was being cinematic. She was playing tricks in the middle of night. I wrote the script, making hits, while she was theatric. I was mixing concrete, pure heat, to make it all right. Drafting foundations, no patience, she was erratic. Now I’m stepping off-site, in the light, but out of your sight. Wrapped in a family nest, sheltered by the walls, Ignoring every real-world brick until the structure falls. The legal chains are heavy, yeah, the name upon the page, But there’s a quiet comfort in the safety of a cage. Freedom requires footsteps, and footsteps require ground, But she’d rather stay in silence where the truth is never found. Why build a life in Jersey when the screen is always bright? It’s easier to play at love when you can dim the lights. Now I’m fighting with the shadows, trying to keep the walls from thin, But how do you save a sanctuary when the ghost won't let you in? I served a feast of the truth, from the harvest to the bone, She’s satisfied with appetizers she can eat alone. I’m the Architect of "Always" in her world of "Just for now", Pouring sweat down in the kitchen while she takes a final bow. Better watch that young tongue, child, keep the phrasing tight, Before you draft a fiction in the middle of the night. Every moment is a memory, a file I’ve kept in store, A master-tapr recording of what happened on this floor. Don't go twisting up the story, don't you re-edit the scene, To fit the narrow vision of your lonely little screen. I could burn your whole horizon, let the fire reach the sky, With a few clicks of a button in the blinking of an eye. I see the mirror image now, the beard and the hair. A budget version of the truth, a man who isn't there. A placeholder for progress while the clock is ticking down. You can't build a kingdom on a borrowed, paper crown. Keep the routine, on the screen, play out the part. The seats are all bare, no one there, breaking your heart. We see the real you, right on cue, the same lines. The script is all dust, nothing to trust, end of the line. I’m stepping off the site now, I’m looking at the math, Taking back the energy I wasted on this path. Why be the Gatekeeper for a door locked from the inside? Protecting someone else’s peace while they’ve got things to hide? She’s comfortable in shallows where the water doesn't move, While I’m out here in the deep end with nothing left to prove. I’m done with chasing shadows, I can see the whole design, She doesn't want the sanctuary, she just wants to stay behind. She found a face that looks like mine to keep the image near, Without the need to make it real, without the work of being here. I’m trading in the "maybe" for a truth I can finally hold, The Architect is leaving, and this story’s being told. Clarity is a hell of a thing at forty. No more blueprints for ghosts. Keep the screen, keep the distance. I’m keeping the substance.

0/500