/* A young Egyptian priestess believes she is chosen by the gods, her every command shaping the world around her. But strange glitches creep into reality—shadows that don’t belong, time that stutters. During a sacred ritual, she glimpses a face in the water—not divine, but distant, watching. The gods are not gods. Her world is not her own. She is a pawn in a game, controlled by unseen hands from a future she cannot comprehend. */ /* © 2025 Irrelin. All rights reserved */ [Instrumental interlude] [Verse 1] The sky cracks like old parchment, wind carving lines across my skin. I step into the dust, watch it cling to my ankles like something living. They kneel when I pass, bow their heads to something I do not see. I speak, and the river shifts. I raise my hands, and the fields bloom. Their faith is heavy, pressing into my ribs like a second spine. [Chorus] (What god moves when I move?) (What hand shapes my shadow?) The sun stutters in the sky, like a breath held too long. (Who pulls the strings?) (Who writes the script?) And why does the world pause before it obeys? [Drop] (A crack in the light, a tremor in the sand—who am I? Who am I?) [Verse 2] The temple doors are warm under my hands, stone drinking in the heat of belief. Inside, the statues do not blink, but I swear I feel their gaze when I turn my back. At night, I dream of hands, too large to be my own, hovering just above my shoulders. I move left, they hesitate. I move right, they follow. I wake up gasping, but nothing is ever out of place. [Bridge] (What voice speaks through my mouth?) (What thread tightens around my wrists?) I do not pray. I only listen. [Rap] The sand rewrites itself behind me, each step erased before I take the next. I part the sky, the birds obey, but it does not feel like mine to command. A shadow flickers in the water, not mine, not the gods’. A face, blurred at the edges, watching, waiting, unseen but near. [Verse 3] The ceremony begins, torches gutter in the windless air. I raise the dagger, the stars tremble. The basin shimmers— not with water, but with something else. A reflection that is not a reflection. A face I do not know, eyes too sharp, too distant, something outside of time, outside of place. The gods are not gods. The gods are not gods. The words taste wrong, but they do not leave my tongue. [Outro] I reach out— and the world stutters. Somewhere, beyond sand and sky, a hand lifts from a console. The strings go slack. And I fall into silence. [Fade to End]
