Burnt Tape Sanctuary
(They don't know the math.
They don't know the code.)
Walking through the city with the static in my head
Living out the margins of the things we never said They’re analyzing
glances, they’re charting every move Searching for a narrative to prove what
they can prove Pero qué sabrán de la línea o del secreto
diseño Inventando cuentos para el dueño de su sueño.
It’s the unspoken! The glitch in their design!
We’re tracing out the perimeter,
we’re drawing out the line!
Forty-one, forty-two, sixty-seven, the gate!
We’re navigating spaces that they’ll never cultivate!
They want a tidy package?
They want to name the light?
We’re just the storm in the cockpit,
drifting out of sight!
It’s not about the optics,
it’s not about the show It’s the anchor in the marrow,
it’s the only truth we know They’re scared of the connection that’s
entirely complete Without a single compromise,
without a single retreat Let them judge the shadow,
let them spin their useless tale We’re the only ones inside the
cockpit while they fail.
Are we good?
Are we bad? Are we everything they wish they ever had? (hahahaha)
Forty-one...
Sixty-seven... Mine.
It’s the unspoken! The glitch in their design!
We’re tracing out the perimeter,
we’re drawing out the line!
Forty-one, forty-two, sixty-seven, the gate!
We’re navigating spaces that they’ll never cultivate!
They want a tidy package?
They want to name the light?
We’re just the storm in the cockpit,
drifting out of sight!
Unspoken. Untouchable. Tiguidou.