[Intro]
The room hums with early sirens, a breath held tight like a hinge between sky and rubble.
[Verse 1]
I stand in the doorway of a broken state, voice carved from ash and doubt.
Power wears a crown of steel, and I count the bodies while counting the lies they shout.
Sovereign I am not by throne but by the oath I keep to those who bleed in the streets,
Where every brick has a memory of a brother who never got to rise to his feet.
[Pre-Chorus]
The guns don’t fire for glory, they fire for silence, for graves that stay unseen.
I hear their orders, but I hear the cough of the wounded beneath the machine.
[Chorus]
This is not victory; this is hunger wearing a uniform of fear.
Truth dissolved in smoke, justice a rumor that won’t appear.
If loyalty costs a child’s breath, what is the cost of being brave?
We ask the night to answer, while the dawn pretends we haven’t graveyards to save.
[Verse 2]
A nation fractures under the weight of its own iron clad promises.
Soldiers march like drums of a courthouse with verdicts carved in sorrowful sentences.
I speak to power as if it were a wall I could punch through with a fist full of names:
Civilians, the living witnesses, the ones who keep the light when the tunnel remains the same.
[Pre-Chorus]
The rhetoric swells, a tide that swallows the pier of the innocent.
We bleed in unison yet stand apart, a chorus of questions we can’t answer clean.
[Chorus]
This is not victory; this is hunger wearing a uniform of fear.
Truth dissolved in smoke, justice a rumor that won’t appear.
If loyalty costs a child’s breath, what is the cost of being brave?
We ask the night to answer, while the dawn pretends we haven’t graveyards to save.
[Bridge]
I measure sovereignty in the scars on my hands, in the names scratched on the walls.
The cost of war is a ledger that never balances, a silence that grows tall.
Are we the guardians or the objects of our own nightmare, tossed like coins in a wishing well?
[Chorus]
This is not victory; this is hunger wearing a uniform of fear.
Truth dissolved in smoke, justice a rumor that won’t appear.
If loyalty costs a child’s breath, what is the cost of being brave?
We ask the night to answer, while the dawn pretends we haven’t graveyards to save.
[Outro]
So I ask you, truth—where do you hide when life itself becomes a rumor in the wind? For how long will we pretend the last breath wasn’t ours to give?
What is life without a truth worth living for, and who remains when the room goes dark?
