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Black Box Cathedral (SUNO SKETCH : 2026 11 : TAKE 02)

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I. THE PREMIUM (Verse 1 — restrained, ritualistic) We laid the wires beneath the floor Called it “support,” called it “before” Every candle needs a room to burn Every question waits its turn We priced the silence, priced the air Measured dust and light and prayer No one asked what faith would cost When numbers learned to sing like gods PRE-CHORUS (rising tension) Hands don’t touch the counting room Keys are carved in marble runes If the work is clean and true Why the locks? Why all the blue? II. LION’S SHARE (Chorus — grand, seductive) Come inside, we’ll keep you warm Build you halls to weather storms What we take, we take to give This is how the great things live Lay your work upon the scale Trust the rate, the gate, the veil Every dream must pay its due To the house that carries you III. RATE DRIFT (Verse 2 — unsettled, shifting meters) Percentages that lose their names Slide like rivers, shift like blame Nobody owns the moving line Everyone swears it’s by design Paper grows, the lab stays small Echoes bounce, the voices stall What was built to serve the flame Now demands it feed the frame PRE-CHORUS 2 (shorter, sharper) You don’t see it, but you feel Weight that never learned to kneel If the truth can stand the light Why does daylight start a fight? IV. CATHEDRAL BUILD (Chorus — expanded, almost worship) Stone by stone, we raise the claim In progress’ ever-holy name Not a tax, not a toll Just the cost of being whole Lift your eyes, admire the view See what careful rates can do Every floor a promise kept Every doubt politely slept V. OPEN THE BOOKS (Bridge — collapse, near silence) Whose hands touch the unseen thread? Who decides what’s fed, what’s fed? No accusation, no decree Just show us where the numbers sleep If it’s honest, let it breathe If it’s holy, let it be No fire dies from open air No truth breaks from being fair VI. BLACK BOX REPRISE (Outro — unresolved, heavy) We built a house around the flame Now the house demands its name Still the work calls from inside Soft… and patient… still alive Doors stand tall. The locks remain. The choir hums the old refrain. (Last line whispered, unresolved) Trust the rate. Trust the gate.