[start] [Intro: Sparse piano and fingerpicked acoustic guitar with distant reverb; slow atmospheric swell from strings and bass harmonics] [Instrumental only – haunting chamber textures build slowly, then recede] [Verse 1] Dust settles on the floor, verses cover every wall, A mother answers everything with scripture, never just a call. He wanted just to move, to laugh, to be a kid, But Leviticus rewrites the world, makes real things feel forbidden. [Verse 2] He learns to keep his eyes down, hide the wanting from his face, Treats his own curiosity like something to erase. The girls become a minefield, every glance a kind of crime, So he builds a cell inside his head and locks himself inside. [Chorus] Oh, the song he never asked for, A hymn that's carved in guilt and stone. Every heartbeat feels like treason In a house where love's been overthrown. The melody is silence, The verses all the same— A child learning how to hate himself Before he knows his name. [Bridge: Slow rhythmic pulse, melodic bass leading a swelling instrumental under fragile vocals] In the quiet when no one's listening, He whispers to a God he's scared to face: "Forgive me for existing as I am, For taking up this space." The prophet's road begins with shame, With bricks of fear laid down, In a small room scorched by certainty, A thousand miles from any town. [Outro: Sparse reprise – bass and guitar weave counter-melodies; cymbals fade into soft reverb decay] The dust collects, the scriptures fade, But the prison stays inside. He sang the hymn they taught him, And something in him died. [end]
