[Verse 1] Deep beneath the ribs, where no lantern ever hangs, there stands a crooked hall no map has ever drawn. Its stones are laid from half-born sentences, pressed and hardened by bitten tongues. Along the walls burn narrow lamps. On each small flame a name is written that never reached the ear it sought. [Chorus] There is a choir of the unsaid standing in that shadowed hall, singing for the words that turned away and walked back home to bone. If you hear a low, slow sound at night, do not call it wind— it is the life you would have spoken learning how to live alone. [Verse 2] Beyond the hall a forest grows, fed by thoughts you swallowed whole. Every trunk is twisted speech, every leaf a quiet “almost”. In the center lies a well with a restless skin. When you lean above it, it does not show the sky, only your own face dressed in every unfinished sentence you have worn. [Chorus] There is a choir of the unsaid keeping watch beside the well, humming all the evenings you stayed still when you should have stood upright. If the air turns heavy when you whisper “I am fine”, it is the castle in your chest remembering what you hide. [Bridge] One night I crossed the silent court, past the rows of almost-words, and climbed the broken steps toward the throne where quiet sat wearing my hands, my mouth, my eyes. It spoke in my own voice: “Stay small. We have made a kingdom from everything you dared not say.” Then something older rose within my bones and answered: “Then let your kingdom fall.” My mouth was never meant to be a lock. It is a gate. [Final Chorus] Now the choir of the unsaid tears its banners from the stone, each pale singer steps forward to be called by its true name. If you do not like the sound that follows when I open every door, remember: half these ghosts were born the day you asked me to speak less and bear more. The bass is the ground shifting under this old spell, the strings are the cracks running through the throne. When the choir of the unsaid finally walks out into light, this dark tale is over— and what remains belongs to me.
