[Verse 1] Raised in the alley where the smoke don’t clear, Grey hoodie up, I just blend, disappear, Streetlight flicker like it tryin’ to speak, Say my name soft when the night get deep. Found truth in a bag where the lost things stay, Ate it whole, now the world feel strange, Trash talk back when I sit too still— Like it knows me more than I know myself. They said, “You don’t belong in the light no more,” So I stopped knockin’ on that door, Now I move where the shadows sit and breathe— And the silence feel like it chose me. --- [Hook – low, eerie] Dumpster gospel, whispered slow, Where the lost things learn to grow, No names left, no place to go— Just shadows wearin’ what we know. --- [Verse 2] They see a shape in the dark and assume it’s me, But I don’t move how I used to be, Every sound got weight, got meaning now— Even footsteps echo different somehow. Camera glitch when I pass that line, Like the world don’t register my design, They chase somethin’ they can’t define— But I’m already gone by the time they find. I don’t run, I just slip between, Spaces where the air don’t feel routine, Call it madness, call it survival code— I just learned how to live where the rest won’t go. --- [Bridge – whispered, distorted] The pavement cracked and said my name… The sky looked down… but it wasn’t the same… I seen the wires behind the frame— Now nothin’ real stay in its place. --- [Verse 3 – deeper, more reflective] I talked to the night, it talked me back, Said “you ain’t lost—you just off the map,” Every street feel mapped in loops— Like I walked it once, now I replay truth. I was baptised in a puddle, let the night take hold, Lit a flame in the dark, now the air feel cold, Tried stay human, tried play that role, But somethin’ shifted, lost control. Now I see through what they pretend, And I don’t think I can go back again, It ain’t the hunger that changed my view— It’s the way it all started feelin’ true. Like I’m not alone in what I see… Like somethin’ out here recognises me. --- [Hook – slightly stronger] Dumpster gospel, whispered slow, Where the lost things learn to grow, No names left, no place to go— Just shadows wearin’ what we know. --- [Outro – spoken, quiet, unsettling] “This ain’t survival… This is adaptation. Subject no longer seeks return. …integration observed.”
