Lyrics

[INTRO]
You searched between the pages.
Everybody writes the missing chapter.
Nobody asks who bound the book.
Want the years? Count what survived the fire.
ANNNNUUUUNNNAAAKKKIIIIIIII!

[VERSE I]
They wanted chronology, columns of coordinates,
Scholars with solemn catalogues of ordinates,
An oracle, an origin, authorized subordinates
To corroborate a narrative they couldn't keep in order with.
I wasn't in the margins—I was moving through the manuscript,
Learning how the hammer in the hand becomes the sacrament,
Studying the architecture underneath the battlement,
Watching hungry people build a heaven out of abandonment.
Marketplace of meaning manufacturing messiahs,
Merchants selling certainty, magistrates supplying liars,
Every seeker with a question getting sentenced by a choir
That called the smoke divine but never dared to test the fire.

[PRE-HOOK]
Measure every mile, number every stone;
The road that makes a witness isn't always one that's known.
You went searching for a kingdom where the crowned had ruled;
I was learning from the nameless what the kings had never knew.

[HOOK]
THE YEARS THEY COULDN'T BURY!
THE WORD THEY COULDN'T OWN!
Never in your inventory,
Never property of Rome!
THE YEARS THEY COULDN'T BURY!
THE FLAME BENEATH THE STONE!
You were tracking all my footsteps—
I WAS LEARNING HOW TO WALK ALONE!

[VERSE II]
Desert? Mountain? Monastery masonry?
Wisdom in the wilderness or retrospective pageantry?
Every age invents a passport for the Nazarene,
Then markets myths as excavated masterpieces.
India in the inference, Tibet in the mythology,
Egypt in the imagery, Essenes in the chronology;
Possibility's a visitor, not proof of an ontology—
Don't mistake a gorgeous hypothesis for archaeology.
Language of the laborer, mathematics of the mother,
Hunger of a stranger is the hunger of a brother,
Men who quote a prophet while they profit from another,
Hands that claim the heavens leave the helpless in the gutter.
No jeweled initiation, celestial certification,
Exclusive revelation sold with membership donation,
Hereditary hierarchy of holy authorization—
Just the terrifying consequence of love without permission.

[HOOK]
THE YEARS THEY COULDN'T BURY!
THE WORD THEY COULDN'T OWN!
Never in your inventory,
Never property of Rome!
THE YEARS THEY COULDN'T BURY!
THE FLAME BENEATH THE STONE!
You were tracking all my footsteps—
I WAS LEARNING HOW TO WALK ALONE!

[VERSE III]
Here's the revelation they demanded I deliver:
No secret scripture in a silver cylinder,
No map to hidden masters or ministers,
No cosmic passport signed by visitors.
It's simpler.
More sinister to systems built on separation,
More corrosive to the currency of sacred delegation,
More impossible to monetize than mystical salvation:
YOU DON'T NEED A MIDDLEMAN TO PRACTICE LIBERATION!
I learned how a question breaks inherited conditions,
How a child without a title can dismantle your traditions,
How compassion without cameras becomes a radical position,
How the truth becomes a threat when it refuses your permission.

[VERSE IV]
Serpent in the firmament is circling the narrative,
Ophiuchus as the healer, not a cosmic imperative,
Not a newly proven gospel, but a mirror for the medicine
And venom that we carry when the world becomes competitive.
Every empire has an editor, every editor a creditor,
Every creditor a ledger full of sinners and inheritors;
I came to break the cycle, not become another treasurer,
Not another sacred sovereign with a palace full of prisoners.
Canonize a casualty, commodify a crucifix,
Billion-dollar basilicas built around the contradiction,
Make a market out of martyrdom, a ministry of politics—
Still can't buy the love I taught without a single certificate

[FINAL HOOK]
THE YEARS THEY COULDN'T BURY!
THE WORD THEY COULDN'T OWN!
BUILD A THOUSAND ALTARS—
YOU CAN'T MAKE THE FLAME YOUR THRONE!
THE YEARS THEY COULDN'T BURY!
THE SEED BENEATH THE STONE!
YOU WERE SEARCHING FOR MY FOOTSTEPS—
I WAS TEACHING YOU TO WALK YOUR OWN!

[OUTRO]
You asked where I was.
I asked where you've been.
Ophiuchus returns—not to close the book,
But to teach you how to read between the lines.
The flame was never missing.
Only the witness.