From the 7GS album: “Eightfold (The Witnessforms)” 💿 Lyrics: [VERSE 1] There was a child before the vocabulary. Creative. Perceptive. Different wiring. Watching every room breathe. I knew the weather in a silence. I knew when something wasn’t right. But knowing isn’t the same as naming, and naming isn’t always safe at night. So I kept fragments: a melody, a sentence, a title, a voice memo, a feeling I couldn’t explain. [PRE-CHORUS] Then one day the fragment asked for air. [CHORUS] Give it a voice. Don’t make it smaller to fit. If the truth arrives singing, let the whole room hear it. Give it a body. Give it rhythm. Give it somewhere to land. I don’t have to become less alive to make myself understandable. [VERSE 2] Grandmother has a melody. Eric has one too. Greg has roads and questions. Enya has rooms I once walked through. Heartbreak has headlights. Childhood has Christmas. Religion has a doorway I still don’t know whether to enter. Driving turns memory sideways. A song opens a year. A voice becomes evidence: I was here. I felt this. I survived it. [VERSE 3] I write while transforming. I document while becoming. The art isn’t decoration. It is a record of the weather. Wanda tells stories. WWTT opens the door. The storyteller says: come closer. Not celebrity. Not spectacle. A life that looked ordinary from the outside while carrying a cinema underneath. [BRIDGE] Lucy says: speak the hurt. Krystal says: find your rhythm. Orah says: look again. Elodie says: now let it out. Seven perspectives. Not seven masks. Not seven singers competing for the same sentence. Different windows on the same weather. [CHORUS] Give it a voice. Let culture carry what memory starts. Let the song hold grief, humor, desire, place, faith, rage, tenderness, and art. Give it a voice. Let expression be a bridge. Not away from human hands— back toward them. [VERSE 4] From Summer Moons to winter, from Sour Grape to Bells and Dust, from porch-light stories to worlds named because plain language wasn’t enough— I made names so the meanings wouldn’t disappear. And if a stranger finds one, let them bring their own life with them. [OUTRO] The song doesn’t explain me. It lets me speak.
