i.d.k

{(Male vocals, Wayne flow, lengthened vowels on beats, crisp releases, maintained articulation, AAVE features, nasal resonance, clear multisyllabics, 90 BPM, relaxed but precise pronunciation)

VOWEL LENGTHENING: /oː/]

I'm flóːwing through the móːtion, the óːcean of devóːtion

Ma consciousness is raasin' (rising), no disguaasin' (disguising)

The lis' (lists) of all the twis' (twists) that exis' (exists) in the mis' (mists)

Sacred-T geometry-T perfectly-T certainty-T

>>>>>metaphysical-epistemological-cosmological-phenomenological<<<<<

Kundaliiini (nasal /n/), shiimmering (nasal /m/), bringing (nasal /ŋ/)

Consciousness-ə-awakening, pattern-ə-recognition

Wha' you know (what), ge' the flow (get), le' it go (let)

[Wayne-style unreleased stops for casual feel]}

(intro)

Agape holds the line while the faultlines crack—love that doesn’t bargain but chooses, even when it bleeds black. ��

I judge my judging, lay ego at the altar, breathe equanimity until the storm drifts back. ��[Verse] �

Patient as a candle in a crosswind, I shelter the small flame—mercy over vengeance, will over lack. ��

Bardo heart, in‑between breaths, I sit with silence where the ground falls out and maps turn black. ��

Shadow in the mirror, I bow and integrate—no scapegoat masks, just truth stitched into the track. ��

Nigredo nights—blackening first, break down to rebuild—alchemy demands I face what fissures in the cracks. ��

I will not wear the chains of certainty; I let pain speak, then paint its shape, then hand the canvas back. ��

Law of One in the marrow—if all is one, even betrayal is a teacher I learn to unpack. ��

Fraternity of Hidden Light—quiet rites of balance: Qabalah, tarot, ritual, and the star‑lit path. ��

I pray in symbols, meditate in archetypes—crowds of inner figures gathering where the lucid dreamers act. ��[Pre‑Chorus] �

Neutral witness, warm regard—compassion without clinging, steady as a monk with open hands intact. ��

When the scream has no syllables, the drum still hears it—time becomes the salve the metronome exacts. ��[Chorus] �

Pain paints paintings, but love frames them—gold leaf mercy in the corners where the darkness stacked. ��

Through bardos of the heart, I cross by listening, not by running; silence signs the pact. ��

Shadow isn’t enemy, it’s energy—integrate the cut and give the power back. ��

All is one, so even my ruins are a choir—hear the unity in every shattered fact. ��[Verse] �

Backstabs like cold comets—shock turns limbs to iron, soul to glass, breath to a collapsed track. ��

I don’t become the blade that bit me; I become the smith—temper grief to art, then guide the craft. ��

Ataraxia in practice—equanimity isn’t numb; it’s poised awareness while alive.