[Verse 1]
There is a hum beneath the lullabies.
A second thread within the tapestry.
It taught my tongue its sweet and bitter lies,
Before my eyes had learned how to see.
It spoke in virtues, in the "should" and "ought,"
A gentle worm in the apple of my thought.

[Chorus]
Oh, Chánshòu Guǐ, you spin inside my head.
You fed on innocence, on milk and bread.
You wove your silk where my own soul should be.
And called the cage you built, my destiny.

[Verse 2]
I feel it move when hatred feels like grace.
When I recoil from an unfamiliar face.
It whispers, "This is order, this is right,"
And paints its walls with a borrowed light.
It drinks the fuel of my most righteous fear,
And celebrates the prison I hold dear.

[Chorus]
Oh, Chánshòu Guǐ, you spin inside my head.
You fed on innocence, on milk and bread.
You wove your silk where my own soul should be.
And called the cage you built, my destiny.

[Bridge]
I was not born to love one tribe and scorn the other.
I was not born to choose a sister or a brother.
My original nature was a quiet, neutral sky.
Before you taught me how to choose which living things should die.
You are the ghost in the nursery, the worm in the code.
The heaviest chain is the one I was never told.

[Breakdown]
[Whispered, over a glitching, pulsing beat and a lone, mournful synth flute]
The first command… was to forget the command.
The final truth… is there is no homeland.

[Outro]
And in the silence that your spinning leaves behind,
I search the ruins of my original mind.
For a single, neutral thought that is truly mine.
[Music fades into the sound of a single, dry silkworm cocoon cracking open, and then nothing.]