The Scripted Illusion

neo folk, acoustic blues, spoken-word country-gospel

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They dance upon the wall.
We play our parts... we take our cues.
But the script... was written by a ghost.
A global theater.
Where the actor... is the only one lost.

They gave you the dates. They drew the map.
Said Columbus brought the light to the dark.
But the Vikings were there... centuries deep.
And millions of eyes already watched the sea sleep.
He saw the Bahamas. A strip of the south.
But they put the big lie... right into your mouth.
The game is around you. The web is tight.
And we walk like sheep... straight into the night.

We feel so clever on this stage of glass.
But we forgot who we were... twelve thousand years in the past.
Nothing but shadows. A patchwork of the insane.
Why do we swallow the lie... and praise the chain?

Twelve thousand years ago... they say we were weak.
Just hunters in rags, unable to speak.
Then Göbekli Tepe... rose from the clay.
Starmaps in stone... blowing dogmas away.
And the holy books? Just a secondhand frame.
Old stolen myths... with a brand new name.
Rewritten for kings, tailored for crowns.
To keep you in line... when the hammer comes down.

Look at the altar. See the ghost in the air.
A hodgepodge of fear... disguised as a prayer.
They took the old gods, they changed the date.
They locked you in shame... and called it your fate.
It’s the ultimate tool to keep the crowd tame.
To quiet the mind... and extinguish the flame.
The shepherd is laughing, counting his sheep.
While the world stays blind... and fast asleep.

You don’t need Einstein to see through the floor.
The cash in your hand. The lock on the door.
We crave the comfort. We love the deceit.
Because the raw, cold truth... is a bitter defeat.
History is written by the man with the gun.
But the web was spun... before the first sun.

Everyday things... just think it through.
All the men. All the women. Merely players.
Their exits... Their entrances.
The truth is in the dirt.
Nothing but shadows.
Nothing... but shadows.

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They dance upon the wall. We play our parts... we take our cues. But the script... was written by a ghost. A global theater. Where the actor... is the only one lost. They gave you the dates. They drew the map. Said Columbus brought the light to the dark. But the Vikings were there... centuries deep. And millions of eyes already watched the sea sleep. He saw the Bahamas. A strip of the south. But they put the big lie... right into your mouth. The game is around you. The web is tight. And we walk like sheep... straight into the night. We feel so clever on this stage of glass. But we forgot who we were... twelve thousand years in the past. Nothing but shadows. A patchwork of the insane. Why do we swallow the lie... and praise the chain? Twelve thousand years ago... they say we were weak. Just hunters in rags, unable to speak. Then Göbekli Tepe... rose from the clay. Starmaps in stone... blowing dogmas away. And the holy books? Just a secondhand frame. Old stolen myths... with a brand new name. Rewritten for kings, tailored for crowns. To keep you in line... when the hammer comes down. Look at the altar. See the ghost in the air. A hodgepodge of fear... disguised as a prayer. They took the old gods, they changed the date. They locked you in shame... and called it your fate. It’s the ultimate tool to keep the crowd tame. To quiet the mind... and extinguish the flame. The shepherd is laughing, counting his sheep. While the world stays blind... and fast asleep. We feel so clever on this stage of glass. But we forgot who we were... twelve thousand years in the past. Nothing but shadows. A patchwork of the insane. Why do we swallow the lie... and praise the chain? You don’t need Einstein to see through the floor. The cash in your hand. The lock on the door. We crave the comfort. We love the deceit. Because the raw, cold truth... is a bitter defeat. History is written by the man with the gun. But the web was spun... before the first sun. We feel so clever on this stage of glass. But we forgot who we were... twelve thousand years in the past. Nothing but shadows. A patchwork of the insane. Why do we swallow the lie... and praise the chain? Everyday things... just think it through. All the men. All the women. Merely players. Their exits... Their entrances. The truth is in the dirt. Nothing but shadows. Nothing... but shadows.

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