EVERYBODY NODDED

By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe © 2026 Mark Damon Bitkower. Lyrics & written content are original and owned by the author. All rights reserved. No reproduction, redistribution, or use without prior written permission. 🐰🌙𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐𝕽𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖎𝖙 𝕾𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖘🌙🐰 JackRabbit Slims is the creative persona of Mark Damon Bitkower, a high-output Suno lyricist building a serialized mythological music universe through AI-assisted songcraft. His work blends Jungian shadow work, Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey, noir cinema, trauma recovery, INFJ pattern recognition, and forensic empathy into what functions less like a playlist and more like a living novel. Across tens of thousands of songs, JackRabbit Slims turns personal history, archetypal psychology, and cinematic world-building into battle hymns for outsiders, introverts, wounded healers, and sovereign minds. ( Home of Chaos Crew & Cobblestone [Intro] There was whiskey in the glasses, rain against the pane, somebody found an answer and everybody said the same. I hadn't found mine yet. [Verse 1] Everybody nodded before the question hit the floor, like they'd rehearsed the ending before they walked in through the door. The bartender kept polishing a glass already clean. Nobody noticed when the truth got traded for agreeing. Somebody said, “That's settled.” Somebody raised a drink. I watched the room stop wondering and wondered what to think. I had a little warning somewhere behind my eyes— not enough to call it knowledge, too loud to call it quiet. [Pre-Chorus] So I held my tongue. Let the moment pass. Sometimes a question needs the dark before it knows what to ask. [Chorus] Everybody nodded. I took the question home. They had the comfort of each other. I had the quiet all alone. Everybody nodded like agreement made it true. I wasn't sure that they were wrong. I wasn't sure I knew. So I sat with what was missing till the easy answer broke. Everybody nodded. I didn't. And nobody spoke. [Verse 2] I walked three blocks in rainfall with their certainty in tow, turning every sentence over, asking what I didn't know. What did somebody prove there? What did somebody claim? Was I seeing an old pattern and mistaking it for fate? Because instinct isn't evidence. A scar can sound like sense. Sometimes what we call perception is just fear in self-defense. So I argued with my own mind until neither side could win, left the door cracked for tomorrow in case new facts wandered in. [Pre-Chorus] That's the trouble with the quiet— you can hear yourself too well. A private room can be a chapel. It can also be a cell. [Chorus] Everybody nodded. I took the question home. They had the comfort of each other. I had the quiet all alone. Everybody nodded like agreement made it true. I wasn't sure that they were wrong. I wasn't sure I knew. So I sat with what was missing till the easy answer broke. Everybody nodded. I didn't. And nobody spoke. [Verse 3] Months went by like bar tabs, names erased beneath the chalk. Then the thing they called impossible came limping through the dark. Nobody remembered Tuesday or the warning in my face. Nobody owes a prophet an apology for rain. And I didn't feel triumphant. I didn't raise my glass. Being right after the wreckage doesn't give you something back. The saddest kind of knowledge is the kind you never share— watching smoke become a fire because you learned nobody cares. [Bridge] But maybe silence isn't wisdom. Maybe hiding isn't peace. Maybe truth without a witness is a locked room with a key. Maybe doubt was never meant to make a coward of the tongue. Maybe “I could still be wrong” and “Something here feels wrong” can both belong. So next time— I'll speak before I'm certain. Not louder. Just sooner. I'll say: “Wait. Can we look at that again?” [Break] And maybe they'll roll their eyes. Maybe they'll laugh. Maybe I'll be wrong. Good. Let the door stay open. [Final Chorus] Everybody nodded. This time I raised my hand. Said, “I know we want an answer, but I don't think we understand.” Everybody nodded— then one old man looked up. The bartender stopped polishing. Someone slowly set down their cup. And for one unfinished moment no one hurried toward the end. No heroes. No believers. No enemy. No friend. Just a room that stopped pretending certainty was something owed. Everybody nodded— then somebody said, “I don't know.” [Outro] Rain against the windows. Whiskey going warm. The world outside kept shouting like it always had before. But inside the Cobblestone one question stayed alive. And for once nobody killed it just to stand on the same side.