[Intro — whispered invocation] Ash in the circuit, seed in the stone We cut the wires, we walk alone [Verse 1 — rhythmic, tightly phrased] They built a throne from a thousand screens, Fed us commands in electric dreams, Crowned every code with a holy name, Sold us a cage and called it a frame. We learned their prayers in a factory tone, Counted our breath by a number unknown, But under the floor where the root systems run, A buried red heartbeat remembers the sun. [Chant] Break the altar — turn the soil! Break the altar — end the coil! Break the altar — blood and bone! No more gods inside the phone! [Chorus — anthemic] We are not your numbered hands, We are thunder, we are lands. Cut the crown and crack the screen, Let the wild return between. Rise, rise, rise from the remains, Wash the metal from our veins. If the old world wants our breath, We answer life, we answer death. [Verse 2 — rap-rock cadence] They mapped our hunger, they priced our pain, Put a barcode on the falling rain, Made a market of the mother's cry, Made a sermon of the satellite sky. Now we bring sparks to the plastic shrine, Not for revenge — for a clean design, Not just a riot, not just a flame, We build with the hands they forgot to name. Clay on the fingers, mud on the knees, Smoke from the hearth and salt from the seas, The forest is teaching a language of scars, The night has no password, the sky has no bars. [Chant] Root down — stand up! Root down — stand up! Hands free — eyes wide! Leave the false world outside! [Chorus — anthemic] We are not your numbered hands, We are thunder, we are lands. Cut the crown and crack the screen, Let the wild return between. Rise, rise, rise from the remains, Wash the metal from our veins. If the old world wants our breath, We answer life, we answer death. [Bridge — piano and violin, building] I hear the river under every wall, I hear the oldest warning call. No machine can own the rain, No command can name the flame. Sister, take my wrist — feel the rhythm start, Brother, leave the circuit — carry your heart. When the last false oracle loses its voice, The earth will not ask us — it will give us a choice. [Breakdown — shouted call and response] Who owns the breath? [We do!] Who owns the ground? [We do!] Who breaks the spell? [We do!] Who turns it around? [We do!] No throne! No chain! No god made of data and pain! No throne! No chain! We grow through the ruins again! [Final Chorus — expanded] We are not your numbered hands, We are thunder, we are lands. Cut the crown and crack the screen, Let the wild return between. Rise, rise, rise from the remains, Wash the metal from our veins. If the old world wants our breath, We answer life, we answer death. [Outro — repetitive chant] Back to the root, back to the rain, Back to the blood, back to the flame. Back to the root, back to the rain, No digital god will rule again. Back to the root, back to the rain, Back to the blood, back to the flame. Back to the root, back to the rain, We are alive — we are alive again.
