friction
(Intro) Yeah. Check the frequency. Heavy is the crown when the throne ain't reinforced from the baseline. Listen. Yeah, look. (Verse 1) The architecture of peace requires a steady hand, a mutual blueprint But you left the mortar dry, expecting a monolithic monument to move with it A man’s spirit is an altar, it needs the natural incense of devotion Not the transactional friction or the stagnant waters of a frozen ocean She should naturally provide the sanctuary, the unspoken perimeter Shielding the psychological armor when the world becomes a sinister competitor Smoothing out the creases in his thoughts before the war-drums rattle Being the quiet harbor where the vessel docks after the battle But the reservoir is empty, you withheld the basic elements of nurture Forgetting that a starved fire suffocates the structure, changes the temperature If the hearth is cold, the wolf leaves the den to find a sun-lit valley You can't anchor a king with ultimatum strings in a dark alley. (Chorus) If the garden ain't watered, the roots gonna sever and slide He’ll evaporate like mist into the nocturnal tide When the natural solace is replaced by the weight of the friction The silhouette vanishes, a sudden ghost eviction One hundred and thirty-seven heartbeats per minute on the dash If the sanctuary crumbles, watch the phantom dissolve in a flash. (Verse 2) It’s the small hinges that swing the heaviest iron gates, understand the math The unprompted solace, the cooling balm upon the jagged path A woman's intuition should decipher where the fracture lines are growing Pouring oil on the troubled waters without the trumpets blowing But you mirrored the hostility of the streets, brought the storm indoors Leaving salt in the open wounds, creating silent civil wars A man needs the psychological cushion, the natural soft landing Not a secondary courtroom where he's constantly left standing When the home-fire dies and the embers are nothing but grey ash The spirit packs light, escaping the emotional crash He becomes a ghost in the corridor, a memory in the drywall Running toward the open horizon, deaf to the callback cry-call. (Verse 3) Now the coordinate is vacant, the premium real estate is hollow You kept the ledger too tight, leaving no tomorrow to follow The basic nourishment of respect was treated like a rare concession So the king abdicated the throne, leaving you with the possession Of an empty palace, a ghost town where the love used to reside He ran into the fog where the unappreciated souls hide Natural alignment over artificial obligation, that was the code You broke the compass, now he's a phantom on the open road. (Outro) Yeah. Ghosted. One hundred and thirty-seven beats of a fading pulse. When the peace is denied, the exit is silent. No tracks left in the mud. Just the wind in the hallway. Yeah.
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(Intro) Yeah. Check the frequency. Heavy is the crown when the throne ain't reinforced from the baseline. Listen. Yeah, look. (Verse 1) The architecture of peace requires a steady hand, a mutual blueprint But you left the mortar dry, expecting a monolithic monument to move with it A man’s spirit is an altar, it needs the natural incense of devotion Not the transactional friction or the stagnant waters of a frozen ocean She should naturally provide the sanctuary, the unspoken perimeter Shielding the psychological armor when the world becomes a sinister competitor Smoothing out the creases in his thoughts before the war-drums rattle Being the quiet harbor where the vessel docks after the battle But the reservoir is empty, you withheld the basic elements of nurture Forgetting that a starved fire suffocates the structure, changes the temperature If the hearth is cold, the wolf leaves the den to find a sun-lit valley You can't anchor a king with ultimatum strings in a dark alley. (Chorus) If the garden ain't watered, the roots gonna sever and slide He’ll evaporate like mist into the nocturnal tide When the natural solace is replaced by the weight of the friction The silhouette vanishes, a sudden ghost eviction One hundred and thirty-seven heartbeats per minute on the dash If the sanctuary crumbles, watch the phantom dissolve in a flash. (Verse 2) It’s the small hinges that swing the heaviest iron gates, understand the math The unprompted solace, the cooling balm upon the jagged path A woman's intuition should decipher where the fracture lines are growing Pouring oil on the troubled waters without the trumpets blowing But you mirrored the hostility of the streets, brought the storm indoors Leaving salt in the open wounds, creating silent civil wars A man needs the psychological cushion, the natural soft landing Not a secondary courtroom where he's constantly left standing When the home-fire dies and the embers are nothing but grey ash The spirit packs light, escaping the emotional crash He becomes a ghost in the corridor, a memory in the drywall Running toward the open horizon, deaf to the callback cry-call. (Verse 3) Now the coordinate is vacant, the premium real estate is hollow You kept the ledger too tight, leaving no tomorrow to follow The basic nourishment of respect was treated like a rare concession So the king abdicated the throne, leaving you with the possession Of an empty palace, a ghost town where the love used to reside He ran into the fog where the unappreciated souls hide Natural alignment over artificial obligation, that was the code You broke the compass, now he's a phantom on the open road. (Outro) Yeah. Ghosted. One hundred and thirty-seven beats of a fading pulse. When the peace is denied, the exit is silent. No tracks left in the mud. Just the wind in the hallway. Yeah.
FIRE 🔥
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