They tell me what’s real, they tell me what’s true, But truth don’t always know what to do. Some nights the facts just crowd the room, Talk too loud, steal all the oxygen. Then a rhythm slips under the door, A low bass hum I can’t ignore. Suddenly the walls lean back— And I can breathe inside the cracks. No one asks if the song is right, We just agree to feel tonight. Same four chords, familiar lie— But look how the pulse starts to stabilize. It doesn’t fix what broke the day, It just helps the body find its way. We don’t call it truth or proof— We call it mercy with a groove. If reality won’t bend or listen, We hum a world we can live in. Music is a sanctioned hallucination, A shared mistake we call salvation. Close your eyes, agree, begin— We all feel better at the same time then. Not denial, not abdication— Just rhythm lowering the vibration. Music is a sanctioned hallucination, And thank God we’re not alone in it. You don’t ask the tune to testify, You don’t cross-examine a lullaby. You let it carry what words can’t hold, Till the nervous system does what it’s told. Music is a sanctioned hallucination, Licensed joy in a tired nation. Same illusion, different skin— We leave more human than when we came in. Speaking frankly, If this is a lie— It’s one we survive.
