[Verse 1] Blueprints shiver on the steel-lit table, ink like midnight learning to stand. I lace the storm with copper cable, teach it manners, teach it command. Tick—my metronome of accidents, tock—my choir of sharpened chance; I trim the scream to consonants, dress disaster in a lab coat’s stance. [Pre-Chorus] Every error, on a leash; every omen, under glass— I call it music when the knives align at last. [Chorus] Raise your hands—the chaos conducts. I wore the glove; the glove wore us. Strings like sirens, gears like lungs, I wrote the score—now the score has tongues. Raise your hands—the chaos conducts. I led the blaze; the blaze instructs. Bless this order born from cuts— hush now, listen: chaos conducts. [Post-Chorus Chop] chaos conducts—conducts—conducts… [Verse 2] Spines of lightning filed in cabinets, vials of thunder labeled “tame.” I fit the wild with etiquette, and felt my name forget its name. Click—calibration to the marrow, clack—compliance in the wire; I tuned the void to concert A, though it tuned me back to hunger’s choir. [Pre-Chorus] Every answer on a chain; every silence drilled for gold— I called it progress while the pulse took hold. [Chorus] Raise your hands—the chaos conducts. I wore the glove; the glove wore us. Strings like sirens, gears like lungs, I wrote the score—now the score has tongues. Raise your hands—the chaos conducts. I led the blaze; the blaze instructs. Bless this order born from cuts— hush now, listen: chaos conducts. [Bridge] (breathless hush → orchestral swell) I am not your god, I’m the gesture it learned, not the fire, but the tempo at which it burned. Take back my hand? The baton won’t release— I taught the storm to count to three, and now it teaches me. [Drop] (ticking multiplies; metallic percussion in polyrhythms; razor strings stab in unison) [Chorus – Lift] Raise your hands—the chaos conducts. I wore the glove; the glove wore us. Choir ignites, the doors inhale— my perfect plan grows teeth and veil. Raise your hands—the chaos conducts. If I let go, it still instructs. Name the master? Name the flux— hush now, listen: chaos conducts. [Post-Chorus Chop – Extended] chaos conducts—conducts—conducts— (choir stabs) [Outro] Clockhands melt into a single line, low C♯ bow glows like a spine. Sirens blur, the lab unplugs— somewhere, the glove conducts the gloves. (siren smear over bowed low C♯)
