[Intro — piano only, spoken, breath audible] They ask it like it's small talk. Do you have children? [Verse 1 — voice and piano, no drums, room noise] And I learned to look at the floor and say no. Because I wasn't anymore. Not because anybody died. Because I signed. My own hand, my own name — the last thing I ever gave them was a pen. So I called it armor. I called it wisdom. I called it how a man survives. I blamed the pain for every choice till the pain became my name. And every time I said no it cut deeper than anything they could have said to me. [Pre-Chorus — sub-bass enters, no drums] Pride came off me like sap that year — thin, and everywhere, and I let it harden. Every hand that reached for me came back sticky and stopped reaching. [Chorus — brushed percussion, restrained, no lift at the end] I'm numb, Lord. Numb to the hurt I leave behind. Kicking, screaming underneath with a practiced smile on my face. Electricity running through me and I still can't make myself feel. I convicted myself before anybody else could. [Verse 2 — percussion out, conversational, almost flat, no vibrato] I made the same mistakes till I memorized their shape. Somebody asked how old they were. I did the math out loud and got it wrong by two. Not because I couldn't count. Because the counting stopped the year I signed. And I felt nothing. That's the part I can't confess right. Not that I lost them — that I stood there and felt nothing. I rejected them. I rejected me. I pushed away the hands that reached for what was left of the man I used to be. [Pre-Chorus — synth pulse, low percussion enters] And pride grew thick as southern pine, a resin I could not wash away. Every hand that tried to hold me got stuck inside my shame. [Chorus — harmonies enter, opens up] I'm numb, Lord. Numb to the hurt I leave behind. Kicking, screaming underneath with a practiced smile on my face. Electricity running through me and I still can't make myself feel. I convicted myself before anybody else could. Lord, forgive me one more time. I've asked a thousand times before. If grace is real then teach me how to live it — 'cause I can talk about it beautifully, but living it is something more. [Bridge — piano only, near silence, almost spoken, single voice] What's mercy when you knew you needed help and didn't ask? What's forgiveness when the signature is yours? Maybe grace isn't saying I never did those things. Maybe grace is standing in the wreckage and refusing to run. Maybe the stone inside my chest still has a heartbeat underneath. Maybe You never asked me to forget. Maybe You've been asking me to feel. [Final Chorus — full arrangement, swell, wide stereo, soaring harmony] I'm numb, Lord — but I don't want to stay this way. Take this heart of stone from me even if it breaks. I don't want another armor. I don't want another lie. I don't want to call my hiding something noble in Your eyes. Lord, forgive me one more time. I've asked a thousand times before. And if Your grace is more than words then teach me what it's for. Let me live what I have spoken. Let me become what I believe. Don't just take away my guilt, Lord — teach this broken heart to grieve. [Outro — everything falls away, single piano note, voice nearly breaking] I said I wasn't a father because I wasn't anymore. But You knew what I was mourning for. You knew the names I still can't say out loud. I'm sorry, Lord. I'm numb. And I'm still here.
