Intro (spoken, distorted)
Static in the signal, eyes never lie
I don’t believe—I verify.
Verse 1 (chopper)
I see ‘em phase-shift, bleed through frames,
Peripheral flickers, can’t gaslight brains
Infrared blink when the lights go lame,
Cold spots mapped, got degrees on names
EVP hiss in the white-noise rain,
Whispers encoded in waveform chains
Time-stamp, geo-tag, catalog proof,
Not folklore talk, I’m auditing truth
Motion tripwire, hallway flare,
Shadow peel off like it knows I’m there
Electromagnetic spikes go feral,
Compass spin like it saw the Herald
Footprints press where the dust don’t lie,
No body present, but pressure applied
I don’t chase myths, I trace events,
Cross-reference rooms with prior tenants
Hook (aggressive)
I don’t see ghosts—I log ‘em,
File names sharp, I clock ‘em
Photos raw, no edits, no coping,
If it manifests—then I scope ‘em
Thermal glow, audio open,
Receipts talk loud when the skeptics broken
This realm thin, and I’m posted in it,
Paranormal? Nah—documented.
Verse 2 (faster)
Grid overlays, LIDAR sweep,
Depth maps show what the eyes can’t keep
Latency lag in reality seams,
Figures step out of the in-between
Carbon date on the floorboard scars,
Back when gaslight lit the bars
Same shape seen in ‘48,
Same damn stance in ‘98
Camera stutter, frame drop freeze,
Entity caught mid-apology
You say pareidolia—cool, explain
Why it triggers sensors by name
Pressure waves in a sealed-off wing,
Door locked tight but the hinges sing
I don’t scream “haunted,” I build a case,
Peer-reviewed with a poker face
Bridge (half-time, menacing)
Not a séance, no candles lit
Just hard data and panels split
When the veil rips, I don’t flinch,
I zoom, enhance, and annotate it.
Verse 3 (chopper peak)
Spectral residue, ion trails,
After-image burns like a cosmic mail
You want faith? I want file integrity,
Checksum clean—no edit spree
Historical loops in a trauma site,
Same path walked every single night
They don’t know they’re dead, just stuck on repeat,
Like corrupted code in a memory heap
I’m not crazy, I’m calibrated,
Baseline normal then deviations
When the needle jumps, I don’t guess why—
I triangulate and quantify
Ghost box chatter spells names I don’t know,
Later match census—now what though?
You can doubt, but the data’s patient,
Truth don’t rush—it just stays adjacent
Hook (final)
I don’t see ghosts—I log ‘em,
File names sharp, I clock ‘em
Photos raw, no edits, no coping,
If it manifests—then I scope ‘em
This realm thin, yeah I’m posted in it,
Paranormal? Nah—documented
Say it’s fake—cool, bring your metrics,
I don’t fear spirits—I measure ‘em.
Outro (whispered, glitching)
If you can’t see it—
Check the footage.
If you can’t hear it—
Check the waveforms.
This world leaves fingerprints…
I just know where to look.
KylePatrick