Your voice, a fracture in the film It stutters through to a blur to fill
A shape that bent but never broke Just static dressed in borrowed smoke
I stayed too long inside that frame Mistook the noise for something sane
But even glass begins to bend When pressed too hard by what pretends
No signal left underneath the hull No heat behind the coal-fired drum
You call it love, I call it death And I don't owe what's not a threat
You were silenced like a crown Spoken glances pulled me down
But I outgrew your quiet war Frowned peace you never looked for
I held my breath beneath the flood Tore my bones from ash and mud
You thought I'd seen, but I found sure You won't haunt me anymore
No signal left underneath the hull No heat behind the coal-fired drum
You call it love, I call it death And I don't owe what's not a threat
Left underneath the hull No heat behind the coal-fired drum
You call it love, I call it death And I don't owe what's not a threat
