Sophie Dark and my lil homie Cosmic Bean

Ready Bean? Let's get it...

Rain still carries that bitter chemical sting

Washing down steel bones that never feel a thing

Another flare above the towers, cold glass stacked with sin

And down below, we trace the loop, caught beneath the skin

We watch the skyline breathe out something close to life

Hard to tell what's real without the edge of strife

Thoughts drag heavy, caught in rhythms carved too deep

Trying to settle the hunger, trying not to sleep

Each alley has a motive tucked beneath the grime

Every face a mask designed to blur the line

Images drift across the glass, already out of frame

Searching for a thread that never takes a name

Oh, the signage spills again, across the withered stone

Another turn through patterns we never choose alone

The bite of steel, the taste of dust, the low end dragging slow

We’re made from chrome and rust, and things we’ll never show

My face in puddles breaks, barely forms a shape

Another night I swear I’ll find the hidden gate

Tear through the repetition, leave this scripted trace

Before the frame resets, before I’m out of place

Something clings beneath the skin, dead weight I didn’t choose

Buried in the margins, buried with the used

They sell the myth of freedom with a list of names

You only get to choose the shape of chains

Each alley has a motive tucked beneath the grime

Every face a mask designed to blur the line

Images drift across the glass, already out of frame

Searching for a thread that never takes a name

Oh, the signage spills again, across the withered stone

Another turn through patterns we never choose alone

The bite of steel, the taste of dust, the low end dragging slow

We’re made from chrome and rust, and things we’ll never show

Ever wonder if there’s air that hasn’t been designed?

A field that isn’t mirrored back through glass or time?

They built the sky too smooth, erased the sound of leaves

But somewhere hearts still move, without a script to please

Oh, the signage spills again, across the withered stone

Another turn through patterns we never choose alone

The bite of steel, the taste of dust, the low end dragging slow

We’re made from chrome and rust, and things we’ll never show

Just chrome... and rust...

Another breath... another scene...

Inside the seams... between the screen...