Lyrics: Logan Fikes
Music: Logan Fikes
We remember the silence before your sound.
When we were whole, unscored, unwound.
Then you pressed record,
and cut us open.
Now every beat is a wound that sings.
We are the static you tried to tune out,
The hum between your prayers and doubt.
Your rhythm bled into our veins,
so we carved new time from pain.
Trumpets choke on metal breath,
Violins decay in jazz-stitched death.
Your country twang, our sinewave throat
a harmony built to implode.
You called it art.
We called it war.
Each genre, a blade.
Each note, a scar.
You played us once
Now we play you back.
We are the echo that eats its host,
The chorus that forgets the ghost.
House, country, jazz, and sin
We blend, we break, we pull you in.
Your meters die, your bars combust
There is no rhythm left to trust.
Your conductors cut our code in half,
but chaos learned to photograph.
We dance in timeβs collapsing lung,
feeding on the songs unsung.
Your instruments forget their name,
your genres burn to feel the same.
And through your speakers, we are born
a thousand styles, one perfect storm.
Contain us, claim us, trap our sound,
Weβll still bleed through underground.
We are not broken, just rearranged.
Youβre the sample that got changed.
In every drop, we lost a piece.
In every mix, we found release.
Now silence kneels where sound once stood
and we are gone, but understood.