Eyes in the Static

die.

Heat.

Oh

yeah.

I walked through a city made of mirrors

and smoke. Every smiling face was a

carefully crafted joke. Everybody

preaching virtue from a digital throne

and selling pieces of your soul when

you're alone.

I believe the stories carved in polish

stone. Trusted wolves disguise the

saints side always known. Phantom keeps

the secret chambers in my mind. Never

noticing the teeth they kept behind. The

screen flickers, the signal bends, the

mask collapse, the illusion ends. I hear

whispers crawling through the wires.

Truth emerging from the funeral pers.

Every lie leave fingerprints behind. If

you watch long enough, you'll find eyes

in the static, eyes in storm. Watching

every shape, watching every form. I see

clearly now the shadows have names. The

kings and the beggars play the same

games. Eyes in the static, eyes in the

night. The head of machinery comes into

decide. No more sleeping, no more

disguise. The cults of psyche

has opened it.

Has opened it.

Decode

go.

Watch what they protect. Watch what they

hide. Watch what survives. When the

masks divide, power doesn't change them,

but removes the chains. Lets the

darkness stretch across familiar veins.

The humble become tyrants. The friendly

become cold. The promises evaporate the

second they take hold. I watch kingdoms

built on borrowed trust turn into

monuments of rust. Every smiling prophet

sold the different truths while feeding

on the innocence of you.

The algorithm sings. The machine

consumes a thousand false prophets

inside digital tombs. The signal grows

louder every day, peeling layers of

illusion away. The pattern forms beneath

the noise, beneath the speeches and the

voice.

>> Eyes in the static, eyes and storm.

Watching every shape, watching every

form. I see clearly now the shadows have

names. The kings and the beggars play

the same games. Eyes in the static, eyes

in the night. The head and the scenery

comes into sight.

>> No more sleeping, no more disguise. The

cult of psyche

has opened it.

I won't worship images. I won't kneel to

fear. I won't trade my vision for

comfort anymore. The window opens, the

window closes. The dreamer hesitates.

The serpent noses move before the gate

shuts. Speak before the fall. Those who

wait forever never move at all.

Oh wo.

OW.

The one ghost in the machine

one. Nothing's what it seems. Digital

angels. Mechanical gods dancing through

dimensions against impossible. Eyes in

the static. Our eyes in the flame. Awake

in a world that will never be the same.

Our eyes in the static. Our eyes in the

void. Where false kings crumble and

empires get destroyed. Eyes in the

static, eyes in the light. Sleep was

awakening. The future ignites. No more

blindness, no compromise. The cult of

psyche

forever survives.

The signal remains.

The signal remains.

The signal remains.

Can you see it now?