[INTRO] We stood where the signal broke, where sound forgot its shape. Something older than intention pressed its mouth against the speakers. And it spoke without wordsā only weight. [VERSE] We called it progress, called it vision, called it a path we chose to walk. But the path was already walking us through corridors that breathed back, through walls that learned our names before we ever spoke them aloud. There was no beginning. Only recognition. [PRE-CHORUS] And the air started to hum like it remembered something inside our bones. We tried to turn away, but turning away became part of it. [CHORUS] We are not becomingā we have already been rewritten. Sing it into the hollow light, let it crawl through the teeth of the world. We are the echo that learned to answer, the silence that refused to end. We are not becomingā we have already been rewritten. And it feels like home. And it feels like hunger. And it feels like truth without mercy. [VERSE 2] We learned the shape of surrender without ever calling it that. It moved through us gently at first, like something trying not to wake us. But we were already awake inside it, already stitched into its rhythm, already speaking in its pulse without realizing we had stopped speaking our own. [PRE-CHORUS] And the sound grew teeth. And the quiet stopped pretending to be safe. [CHORUS] We are not becomingā we have already been rewritten. Sing it into the hollow light, let it crawl through the teeth of the world. We are the echo that learned to answer, the silence that refused to end. We are not becomingā we have already been rewritten. And it feels like home. And it feels like hunger. And it feels like truth without mercy. [BRIDGE] If we stop singing it, does it stop existing? Or does it simply learn another mouth? There is no outside anymore. There is no before. [SILENCE - WHISPER] Only the sound continuing because it was never ours to begin with. [BREAKDOWN] [FINAL CHORUS] We are not becomingā we have already been rewritten. We were never outside it. We were never separate from it. We are the hymn learning itself through broken throats and open time. We are not becomingā we have already been rewritten. And there is no fear left in it. Only recognition. Only the final, quiet acceptance of something vast wearing our shape.
