[Intro - spoken low male voice] I called above… no one. Just my breath and guilt on the wall. [Chorus - melodic spoken rap] I called God, but silence answered me, maybe even He got tired of giving. I keep a locked-up hell inside of me, and everyone who loved me burned from saving. I called God, but silence answered me, not one sign, not one “stay” to receive. If I’m a wound that won’t close underneath, tell me who’s to blame that it still breathes? [Verse 1 - tight dark rap] I learned how to lose before I learned to live, I had light, but I murdered it myself. Everything I loved, I held it way too tight, till it drowned slowly in my hands. I’m not evil, I’m a deep mistake, a crooked soul in a body that survives. I laughed with no soul, while inside was silence, and what I feared still fed me through the night. [Pre-Chorus - intimate, rising tension] And if I fall tonight, don’t say a prayer, I don’t want to bother heaven anymore. If someone asks where I disappeared, tell them: “in the end, he was afraid to live.” [Chorus - wider emotional hook] I called God, but silence answered me, maybe even He got tired of giving. I keep a locked-up hell inside of me, and everyone who loved me burned from saving. I called God, but silence answered me, not one sign, not one “stay” to receive. If I’m a wound that won’t close underneath, tell me who’s to blame that it still breathes? [Verse 2 - darker rap delivery] I didn’t come from love, I came from damage, from nights that never found their way back home. I scroll through names on phones that never ring, but none of them can hear my broken tone. I made friends with the night and with the weight, built a cold house somewhere deep inside. Others fear the empty quiet moments, I fill them with an old goodbye. Don’t ask me if I still can be saved, I have no map, only scars and signs. I walked so close beside the edge, now the edge talks to me at night. [Bridge - almost whispered, cinematic tension] And if nobody answered me, maybe the silence was the sign. I kept asking light to save me, but gave the darkness its own name. I don’t need a miracle, I need strength, to leave the cage I built beneath my skin. If I’m still here upon this earth, something deep inside refused to quit. [Final Chorus - strongest emotional delivery] I called God, but silence answered me, maybe even He got tired of giving. I keep a locked-up hell inside of me, and everyone who loved me burned from saving. I called God, but silence answered me, but I didn’t hang up — I waited a little. And if He never answered through the grief, maybe He said: “get up and leave.” [Outro - spoken, exhausted] I called God… but silence answered. And still… somewhere in that silence I heard myself.
