[Verse 1] You talk in my throat when the room goes quiet, Count every cost, call the calling a riot. “Wait till you’re ready,” you soften the chain, Dress up retreat in the language of pain. You know my old passwords, the shape of my doubt, You feed me a reason, then lock the way out. But I know that cadence, that counterfeit care— You say you’re my counsel. You’re fear in a prayer. [Hook] Traitor, you borrow my voice, You make a cage sound like choice. Fear, pride, ease—whatever you wear, You don’t get to name what I’m called to be. Traitor, I know your disguise. I won’t let your verdict decide. The road may be steep; I will answer the call. You can speak, but you don’t steer at all. [Verse 2] When work asks patience, you offer me ease; When truth asks humility, polish my keys. “Take all the credit. You earned every inch.” Then pride builds a throne from a half-hidden flinch. You say, “Not your season,” when service is near; You say, “They’ll reject you,” and sharpen the fear. But purpose is practiced in small, honest deeds: One yes in the morning. One hand to the need. [Hook] Traitor, you borrow my voice, You make a cage sound like choice. Fear, pride, ease—whatever you wear, You don’t get to name what I’m called to be. Traitor, I know your disguise. I won’t let your verdict decide. The road may be steep; I will answer the call. You can speak, but you don’t steer at all. [Bridge] Not every loud thought deserves my belief. Not every delay is a shield from the grief. I am not flawless; I’m still being formed. I can walk through the weather without calling it home. [Final Hook] Traitor, you borrowed my voice, But I have remembered my choice. Fear, pride, ease—you can change what you wear; You don’t get to name what I’m called to be. Traitor, your claim has expired. I’ll do the next thing, though tired. The road may be steep; I will answer the call. You can speak, but you don’t steer at all. [Outro] You can speak. You don’t steer.
