Ground hums Low and dry I breathe iron, I breathe sky No gods No halo No plan just a body trying to stand Teeth on wire Skin on stone I talk loud ‘cause I’m alone No message, no prayer Just static in the air Every scar I wear’s a door Every scream’s a little more FERA! I don’t heal I burn slow FERA! I let the dirt know FERA! my throat my proof FERA! nothing left to lose I don’t sing I drag sound out I don’t cry I spit doubt Nothing holy, nothing fake I just break what tries to break Don’t call it rage it’s how I... stay awake! FERA! No peace No cure FERA! I endure FERA! Loud and bare FERA! I’m still here! Breath in dust Spit it back Body cracks FERA! (“Fera” is an old Sardinian word for a wild creature, not just an animal, but a being that refuses the leash, the cage, the quiet. In local speech it also describes someone tough, unyielding, stubborn in survival. This song uses that meaning as a heartbeat: a body made of scars and dust, standing without permission, burning instead of healing. “Fera” isn’t rage or madness but the instinct that keeps you alive when nothing else does) © 2025 - skvadMC
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