Orbit

(Verse 1)

Thirty-eight past the third hour of a frozen state

The stars aligned to lock the gate.

A silver pen in a tilted hand

Sketching maps of a nameless land.

I see the friction where the colors bleed

The math of a soul, the silent speed.

The air is velvet, the sound is sharp

A synesthetic hum on a jagged harp.

(Chorus)

I am the logic in a house of glass

Watching the ghosts of the giants pass.

One took the exit, a quiet door

Leaving a weight on the cellar floor.

One was a garden where the weeds grew cold

Turning the silver back into mold.

And the third is a fire that will not die

Burning under an ash-gray sky.

(Verse 2)

I am the pillar in the shifting sand

With the blueprint of sorrow in my palm.

I feel the pulse of the breaking wire

The empathy of a funeral pyre.

The world is a frequency I can’t quite catch

A locked-out heart with a rusted latch.

But where the old trees know my ghost

The stranger is finally the host.

(Bridge)

Patterns of indigo, lines of salt

I carry the burden of every fault.

A precise alignment of fractured parts

The coldest brain for the warmest hearts.

(Chorus)

I am the logic in a house of glass

Watching the ghosts of the giants pass.

The blueprint is blood, the ink is bone

Building a temple I inhabit alone.

(Outro)

February’s echo.

The left-handed light.

An engineer of the infinite night.

Abstracted.

Connected.

Found in the blur.

The observer of all

That we ever were.