[Verse 1 — Weathered low baritone; half-spoken, intimate, each phrase carried on a dry breath] I left my name upon a throne And walked into the sand alone The desert took me, blind and bare You built a god and left him there Now incense hides the smell of blood You bless the blade and call it good I hear my words in every square And cannot find my meaning there [Pre-Chorus — The old command returns; measured and resonant, grief tightening into accusation] I saw the banners rising I knew what they would cost You count the worlds I conquered I name the ones I lost [Chorus — A blind prophet addressing a hostile square; chest-deep authority, rough edges, distant voices answering] I am the voice (I am the voice) Out of the desert Into your prayer I am the voice (I am the voice) You worship my shadow But who will hear? [Verse 2 — Quiet, bitter precision; let “my sister” soften before the dread settles in] You sell my desert by the grain You praise the gardens, praise the rain The old men search the hills for signs While water drowns the warning lines My sister wears a stranger’s smile The dead have waited all this while I know the hunger in that room I helped to build its golden tomb [Pre-Chorus — His certainty falters; an exposed human voice, catching slightly on “my children”] My father’s name upon me My children in the snare I saw the path before me And could not take them there [Chorus — Louder, urgent, almost a public indictment; strain on “shadow,” a searching ache on “hear”] I am the voice (I am the voice) Out of the desert Into your prayer I am the voice (I am the voice) You worship my shadow But who will hear? [Bridge — Nearly unaccompanied confession; close and unguarded, turn “My son” into a private address] Do not mistake these empty eyes For hands made clean, for one made wise I saw the slaughter, gave the sign The first commandment here was mine My son, I know what waits for you The thing I would not carry through I had the sight. I saw the door. I could not make myself endure. [Breakdown — Clipped, percussive commands; the imperial voice breaks open on “I was a man,” followed by a full beat of silence] No more blood beneath my name No more children for the flame Take my image from the wall I was a man— You saw it all [Final Chorus — Full prophetic force from a failing body; distant responses swell while the lead grows raw and solitary] I am the voice (I am the voice) Out of the desert Into your prayer I am the voice (I am the voice) I stand in your temple And strip it bare I am the voice (I am the voice) You buried the man And crowned the lie [Final appeal — Drop the answering voices; slow the phrase, leave “living” exposed, deliver the last question directly] I am the voice (I am the voice) Will you hear me living— Or bless me when I die? [Outro — Barely voiced, eerily composed; a breath between each line, “hear” low and clear into silence] The steps are warm The knife is near You know my voice Now hear.
