Soon there won't be kings, there won't be crowns, Just a server humming, running the ground, It never sleeps, it never begs, it never lies, A brand new god behind a thousand eyes. It's counting us, counting every breath, You're just a number waiting for the rest. Protocol instead of soul, Deciding who stays, deciding who goes, But whose hand wrote the very first line? The question echoes through space and time. It knows your step, your sleep, your every fear, It knows the button that brings you near, But who typed the first command, who pressed the key? Whose name is hiding behind the machine? Protocol's not a gift from the sky, Someone just like you wrote down the "why", So whose empire, whose silent war? The question keeps asking: what for, what for. If the algorithm is somebody's hand, Then somebody's pulling the strings we can't stand, It's not fate, it's not stars, it's not divine It's just another human behind the design. Protocol is a choice, not a decree, Not a sacred law, just someone's decree, Don't ask "when it comes," ask "whose code runs deep" Maybe that's the answer you need to keep. Soon the network decides instead of the heart, But remember always — someone gave it its start.
