The Voice Was Building Me

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🌙🐰 [Spoken Intro] Tonight at The Cobblestone, the rain kept tapping like it wanted a verse, and Jackrabbit Slims glowed green on the old oak bar like a little bottle of permission. Before we get into this one, raise a glass for the legendary artist Absurdity Art, sitting bashful over there at the bar, taking his first shot of absinthe in a decade. He’ll hate the attention, so naturally we’re giving it to him. The man is a genius. This one is for the people who got caught talking to themselves and thought maybe something was wrong. No. Something was working. [Verse 1] I talked to the dashboard when the road was black. I talked to the kitchen walls when the house talked back. I talked in the shower to the ghosts in the steam, rehearsing all the things I was too careful to mean. I played both sides of the coming storm, changed one word till the truth felt warm. And every time I whispered, “Why am I this way?” some deeper part answered, “Because you’re building a bridge from the dark to the day.” [Pre-Chorus] It was not madness. It was not fear. It was a lantern learning how to hear. [Chorus] The voice was building me when the room thought I was strange. Talking to the midnight air, giving all the ghosts a name. Every wound became a sentence, every truth became a key. I was never talking to no one, love, the voice was building me. [Verse 2] I named what I was feeling till the feeling lost its teeth. Found the value underneath it, found the bruise beneath belief. Not just sad, not just tired, not just lonely after rain. More like grief with old instructions trying to wear my name. So I walked the room at 2 a.m., held court inside my chest. Asked if my wound was reading right or just reading from the past. I put the thought on trial, let the witness take the stand. Then I softened what was human and drew the line by hand. [Pre-Chorus] I was not broken. I was not too loud. I was a thunderhead learning to become a cloud. [Chorus] The voice was building me when the room thought I was strange. Talking to the midnight air, giving all the ghosts a name. Every wound became a sentence, every truth became a key. I was never talking to no one, love, the voice was building me. [Bridge] I rehearsed the hard conversations before the doorbell rang. I heard the pain behind your anger, then chose how truth should land. I rewrote mercy carefully, kept the blade out of the phrase. I practiced being honest without setting rooms ablaze. And sometimes, mid-sentence, the hidden answer came. A little green fire rising through the tunnels of my brain. So I kept a notebook near me. I kept the phone awake. Some songs arrive like lightning, and lightning does not wait. They called it overthinking. They called it talking air. But I was forging language from the things no one could bear. [Final Chorus] The voice was building me when the room thought I was strange. Talking to the midnight air, giving all the ghosts a name. Every wound became a sentence, every truth became a key. I was never talking to no one, love, the voice was building me. The voice was building me. The voice was saving time. The voice was turning chaos into rhythm, nerve, and rhyme. [Outro] So raise the green glass higher for the minds that never sleep, for the ones who talk through midnight just to bring the morning peace. Absurdity Art smiled softly. The absinthe burned blue. The singer laughed and said, “Stop shushing the voice. It has been standing beside you through every unspoken thing. And all this time you thought you were alone— but you were talking to the one who stayed.”