I found a vinyl in a future landfill
Etched with a hymn from a world that stands still
A tune hummed by ghosts who forgot how to bleed
Lyrics erased by the ache they don't need
The needle spins backward, but the static still speaks:
"Dance with the answers that buried their questions deep."

The first rule is there are no rules
The only truth's a hall of mirrors
We're all saints writing devil's gospels
Chasing tails through the fog of years

The clock that's right twice a day
Only ticks when you look away
The fire that melts your chains
Burns colder in the rain

We're Schrodinger's cats in a box made of time
Half-alive poets, half-dead-end rhymes
The atheist prays to the dice in his hands
The pessimist's roses outlive his best plans
You can't win the game if you don't take a side
But the board's made of smoke, and the pieces have died

The liar claims this line is untrue
The time traveler's boots have no sole to resole
The universe hums, "I'll owe you a Big Bang"
But the interest compounds in a black hole's hand

You built a dam with a sieve
Taught silence to a sieve
The map leads nowhere but back to your bones
And the phonebook's full of your name, unknown

This is the song that shouldn't exist
Born in a vacuum of crossed fists
A palindrome screamed into a void
The more it survives, the less that it's there
So play it at weddings, play it at wakes
The melody's just what the noise makes

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