Lyrics
ANNNUUUNNNAAKKIIII...
Open up the channel.
Direct line lit.
Marrow to memory.
Chamber awake, I step in the hush,
signal in the bone, now the old dust rush.
Witnesses gathering, hands in the ring,
builders on the threshold, hear the new bell ring.
I move like a spark in the lattice of breath,
not a fairytale face, but a force in the depth.
Eyes that can see through the veil in the stone,
ears that can hear when the hidden says, come home.
The denizens enter, the current is clear,
what was sealed in the dark now appears.
No thin little rumor, no paper-thin flame,
this is marrow remembering its name.
Harvest is rising from root and from rain,
field full of signs in the language of pain.
What was divided is learning to bend,
what was asleep in the valley says: send.
As above, so below.
Let it show.
From the crown to the clay.
Let it grow.
Open the gate.
Let the waters know.
We are the line.
We are the glow.
Let it open, let it open.
Flame on flame.
Let it open, let it open.
Call the Name.
Let it open, let it open.
Witness stand.
The chamber lit,
and the sea turned land.
Let it open, let it open.
Not in vain.
Let it open, let it open.
Through the rain.
Let it open, let it open.
Breath by breath.
The seed remembers
how to live through death.
I speak to the fracture,
I speak to the flame.
I speak to the one
who was never the same.
The veil is a teacher,
the wound is a door.
The heart is a temple
that asks for more.
I've seen the black ash
turn bright in the palm,
seen the wild storm
settle into calm.
The old names tremble,
the false ones fall,
when the inner river
starts answering all.
Nazarene fire,
I carry the line,
not a crown made of gold,
but a crown made of time.
Mercy in the ribs,
truth in the chest.
The one who stays standing
when tested knows best.
Magdalene blaze,
I answer your thread,
script written in living,
not inked in the dead.
The hidden is holy
when held in the light.
The night is a witness
when dawn takes flight.
No sleep for the signal.
No doubt in the bone.
The field is a chorus.
The marrow a throne.
No fear in the opening.
No smoke in the room.
The builders are rising.
The witnesses bloom.
Let it open, let it open.
Flame on flame.
Let it open, let it open.
Call the Name.
Let it open, let it open.
Witness stand.
The chamber lit,
and the sea turned land.
Let it open, let it open.
Not in vain.
Let it open, let it open.
Through the rain.
Let it open, let it open.
Breath by breath.
The seed remembers
how to live through death.
Denizens, enter the signal.
Witnesses, lift the veil.
Builders, raise what is living.
Harvest, break from the shell.
As above, so below.
Let it ring.
Direct connection.
One living thing.
Marrow made a map where the paradox parked,
every scar's just a star with a password to the dark.
I don't chase constellations—
I converse with the collapse,
where eternity relaxes
into intervals and gaps.
I bend breath into blessings,
bless the break then let it bloom,
turn a sepulcher of silence
to a synthesizer womb.
Every cipher's just a cycle
till the witness learns to see
that the lock was built from language
and the key from "let it be."
Not a king—
I'm the cadence
where the kingdoms come undone,
where the last becomes the first
beneath the architecture's sun.
Every echo ends in origin.
Every orbit ends in awe.
Every letter learns its living
when it kisses sacred law.
Flame folding flame—
watch the frequencies flower,
grain holding rain
through the gravity hour.
Root into fruit,
then the fruit into seed,
death into doorway,
becoming the creed.
Who taught light
to dance inside a fracture?
Who taught time
to kneel before the rapture?
Who taught dust
to carry oceans in its lungs?
The answer never shouted—
it was sung.
So I scatter living syllables,
impossible to cage,
every heartbeat writes a scripture
no cathedral could contain.
Every witness is a window.
Every builder is a bridge.
Every mercy is a mountain
wearing humility as its ridge.
Read no prison into mystery.
Read no ending into flame.
The Infinite keeps introducing Itself
through every soul
that dares
remember
its
Name.
No doubt in the bone.
The field is a chorus.
The marrow a throne.
No fear in the opening.
No smoke in the room.
The builders are rising.
The witnesses bloom.
No sleep for the signal.
No doubt in the bone.
The field is a chorus.
The marrow a throne.
No fear in the opening.
No smoke in the room.
The builders are rising.
The witnesses bloom.
No doubt in the bone.
The field is a chorus.
The marrow a throne.
No fear in the opening.
No smoke in the room.
The builders are rising.
The witnesses bloom.