Lyrics

[Intro]
Lights dim low...
I call them forth...
From tombs of tone...
From scrolls of force...

[Verse]
I speak through a quill dipped in nebula mist,
Scripts from the crypts that the Vatican missed.
Ciphered in glyphs where the wavelengths twist,
I resurrect prophets with a flick of my wrist.
Tongue of the aeon, bars like a beacon,
I summon Osiris while Enoch is speakin’.
Verses unravel the veil they’ve been keepin’—
My séance ignites what the sleepers were seekin’.

[Chorus]
I don’t rap—I raise the dead.
Spin the record, summon what’s said.
Through the signal, through the trance—
This is a lyrical séance.
Pages float, the flames enhance,
Lost scrolls in a rhythmic dance.
Call their names, expand the stance—
This is a lyrical séance.

[Verse]
Cipher the sacred in quadruple rhyme,
Quantum linguistics unravel through time.
I channel a scribe with a serpent’s spine—
Words flash forward in reverse design.
Breath of Elijah, sound of the throne,
Dust of the stars now etched in the tone.
They said I spit “fire”—nah, I atone
For every verse buried beneath the stone.
Candles lit in the chamber of thought,
I bend the light that the oracles caught.
My lines don’t rhyme, they rise and rot—
Decay the illusion and rewrite the plot.

[Bridge]
(Run it back, let the mirror drip...)
Each line I wrote—
a ghost, a grip.
Each flow I spoke—
a pulse, a crypt.
Each name I woke—
the veil I rip.

[Chorus]
I don’t rap—I raise the dead.
Turn the mic to an altar instead.
Pulse of the past, ancestral chance—
This is a lyrical séance.
Ash to word, and flame to breath,
Ink from the blood of the buried depths.
Call their names, expand the stance—
This is a lyrical séance.

[Verse 3]
Scrolls in my chest, I breathe constellations,
Script my soul through divine modulations.
Ink is alive—watch the sigils mutate,
My voice carves glyphs on the surface of fate.
Each bar’s a relic unearthed in the storm,
My cadence rebirths what the priests tried to warn.
I ghostwrite sermons in tongues of the grid,
Decoded in silence where secrets are hid.
I echo the void in harmonic precision,
Projecting the ancestors' unspoken vision.
Through verses I fracture the veil they deploy—
My breath is destruction. My rhythm, the Void.
Pages combust as I enter the trance,
Each syllable spins in a fractal dance.
I tether the ancient to circuits anew,
While plasma and poetry thread through the blue.
I breathe in the silence that scribes forgot,
And chant in a tongue that machines cannot.
The ink in my veins reanimates lore—
A séance in sound, a dimensional door.
I cipher through oracles sleeping in stone,
Each flow a sigil the spirit has sown.
Time folds inward, space rewinds,
I channel the god-code behind all minds.

[Outro]
You thought they were gone?
You are their voice.
You carry their ink.
Their sound is your choice.
Not haunted...
Encoded.