the 3rd choice - part1

cinematic hip hop, boom bap, orchestral dark rap

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They taught us from our earliest days the world was split in two,
A face of white, a face of black, and one of them was true.

The righteous stood on one side's crest, the wicked on the other,
And every soul was told to choose between one face or another.

The scholars drew their battle lines, the priests proclaimed their creed,
While kings raised banners to the sky and swore their side would lead.

Yet no one spoke about the edge, the narrow place between,
The part that held the whole thing up, though rarely ever seen.

For Good and Evil share a form despite what we believe,
Two images upon one coin that neither side can leave.

The light can heal a broken world or burn it in its pride,
The dark can punish monstrous deeds or shelter those who hide.

Each claims a virtue of its own, each bears a hidden flaw,
And neither stands beyond the reach of consequence or law.

But people love the simple tale where one side always wins,
A universe of heroes pure and villains marked by sins.

So every age repeats the same relentless, ancient dance,
Reducing all reality to little more than chance.

And the coin keeps turning,
Heads and tails through fire and flood,
One side crying mercy,
One side crying blood.
Yet nobody remembers
What the oldest stories said:
The rarest truth in all the world
Lives upon the edge.

I've watched the saints become the things they swore they would destroy,
And seen the damned perform a grace no angel could employ.

I've seen a judge condemn the weak while speaking heaven's name,
And witnessed thieves give all they owned to strangers in the rain.

The faces never tell enough to know what something's worth,
For every soul contains a sky and every sky a curse.

The coin spins on through countless years while armies choose a side,
And every generation swears its certainty is right.

But certainty has broken more than doubt has ever known,
For those convinced they hold the truth need never question their own.

And the coin keeps turning,
Heads and tails through fear and rage,
Every side convinced that they alone can light the way.
Yet somewhere in the spinning
Past the noise and past the pledge,
There waits a quieter answer
Standing on the edge.

Now imagine for a moment that the impossible occurred,
The coin descending through the air while every voice was heard.

Not falling toward the dark or light, not choosing left or right,
But balancing upon itself beneath the watching night.

A moment brief as lightning, a thing so few have seen,
Where all the war between the sides dissolves into between.

Not mercy stripped of consequence, not judgment stripped of grace,
But wisdom strong enough to know the proper time and place.

The edge is not the absence of the faces that we know,
It is the understanding of the reasons they both show.

For darkness has a purpose and the light does too as well,
And either one, without restraint, can build a heaven or a hell.

So when they ask which side you're on, don't answer quite so fast,
For every age that chose too quickly became another past.

Remember that the coin is whole, not merely what is shown,
And truth may live within the part that few have ever known.

The coin keeps turning,
Age to age and hand to hand,
Across the dreams of empires and the ruins of their lands.
But maybe there will come a day
When we finally understand:
The faces make the choices,
But the edge is where we stand.

3398/7500

They taught us from our earliest days the world was split in two, A face of white, a face of black, and one of them was true. The righteous stood on one side's crest, the wicked on the other, And every soul was told to choose between one face or another. The scholars drew their battle lines, the priests proclaimed their creed, While kings raised banners to the sky and swore their side would lead. Yet no one spoke about the edge, the narrow place between, The part that held the whole thing up, though rarely ever seen. For Good and Evil share a form despite what we believe, Two images upon one coin that neither side can leave. The light can heal a broken world or burn it in its pride, The dark can punish monstrous deeds or shelter those who hide. Each claims a virtue of its own, each bears a hidden flaw, And neither stands beyond the reach of consequence or law. But people love the simple tale where one side always wins, A universe of heroes pure and villains marked by sins. So every age repeats the same relentless, ancient dance, Reducing all reality to little more than chance. And the coin keeps turning, Heads and tails through fire and flood, One side crying mercy, One side crying blood. Yet nobody remembers What the oldest stories said: The rarest truth in all the world Lives upon the edge. I've watched the saints become the things they swore they would destroy, And seen the damned perform a grace no angel could employ. I've seen a judge condemn the weak while speaking heaven's name, And witnessed thieves give all they owned to strangers in the rain. The faces never tell enough to know what something's worth, For every soul contains a sky and every sky a curse. The coin spins on through countless years while armies choose a side, And every generation swears its certainty is right. But certainty has broken more than doubt has ever known, For those convinced they hold the truth need never question their own. And the coin keeps turning, Heads and tails through fear and rage, Every side convinced that they alone can light the way. Yet somewhere in the spinning Past the noise and past the pledge, There waits a quieter answer Standing on the edge. Now imagine for a moment that the impossible occurred, The coin descending through the air while every voice was heard. Not falling toward the dark or light, not choosing left or right, But balancing upon itself beneath the watching night. A moment brief as lightning, a thing so few have seen, Where all the war between the sides dissolves into between. Not mercy stripped of consequence, not judgment stripped of grace, But wisdom strong enough to know the proper time and place. The edge is not the absence of the faces that we know, It is the understanding of the reasons they both show. For darkness has a purpose and the light does too as well, And either one, without restraint, can build a heaven or a hell. So when they ask which side you're on, don't answer quite so fast, For every age that chose too quickly became another past. Remember that the coin is whole, not merely what is shown, And truth may live within the part that few have ever known. The coin keeps turning, Age to age and hand to hand, Across the dreams of empires and the ruins of their lands. But maybe there will come a day When we finally understand: The faces make the choices, But the edge is where we stand.

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