DEAD POETS: Facts & Fire

[INTRO] This is Facts & Fire… a recovered transmission from the margins of language… Not myths. Not legends. Just ink that refused to die. We are listening now… to the dead poets. ⸻ [VERSE 1] Emily Dickinson stayed inside the size of a room but wrote like infinity had no permission to assume Walt Whitman spoke like breath had citizenship in every stranger’s skin and ship Sylvia Plath turned silence into a blade and wrote from the edge of what couldn’t be saved Edgar Allan Poe kept knocking at the dream where the truth leaks out between the seam ⸻ [PRE-CHORUS] They never stopped speaking… they just changed the frequency every unfinished sentence still belongs to memory ⸻ [CHORUS] Dead poets don’t stay dead they echo in the things we said ink still bleeding through the air in every line that’s still out there Dead poets don’t fade away they rewrite us every day if you listen when the night gets thin you can hear them writing again ⸻ [VERSE 2] Langston Hughes in the rhythm of the streetlight hum Maya Angelou in the rise after what we become Bukowski in the dust of the broken and real Rilke in the silence we still feel They didn’t vanish, they dispersed in sound through every page that still comes around like fingerprints on invisible glass from a future that never fully passed ⸻ [PRE-CHORUS 2] Every line they left behind is still alive in borrowed time and every reader who feels too much too fast is proof the signal never passed ⸻ [CHORUS] Dead poets don’t stay dead they echo in the things we said ink still bleeding through the air in every line that’s still out there Dead poets don’t stay gone they’re the signal under the song if you listen when the night gets thin you can hear them writing again ⸻ [BRIDGE] Maybe death is just publication delay maybe voices don’t leave… they drift away and every mind that breaks into verse is just an echo reversing the curse We are not the first to feel this fire… we are just the next wire in the wire ⸻ [FINAL CHORUS] Dead poets don’t stay dead they echo in the things we said ink still bleeding through the air in every line that’s still out there We are the page they never closed we are the fire they composed and if the world goes quiet tonight… we become the light ⸻ [OUTRO] Emily… Walt… Sylvia… Poe… still here… still low… still slow… Facts & Fire transmission closing… but the ink never does…