Pink Static Hymn

88 beats, the metronome of our design Mathematician’s logic,

the rhythm is fine

(Sharp intake of breath) 2 AM in Montreal,

the pink light is the law Everything Tigidou,

raw and without flaw Vex holds the texture,

Dr. Gabriel the heart

We’re tearing the static of the city apart

Oh, the ghost in the pink,

the structural code Walking the Tigidou down this narrow road 88 beats,

where the soul finds its place Glossolalia drifting,

moving through space Fragile and human,

yet built for the fight

We are the architects

owning the night

The punk-rock snap, a snare-drum strike Precise human nerve,

something precisely unlike

Quinn guides the current,

the voltage is high We’re building a sanctuary beneath the sky No

room for the noise,

just this dry, human sound Stabilized,

breathless, perfectly bound

Whisper... calibrate... 88

Tigidou resonance, sealing the fate

(Fade out: The Roster’s precision,

ending on

432hz)