Blueprints and bruises

Turns out he was right

Echo Chamber

Oppression Olympics

(Verse 1)

You hear a word, you clutch your pearls,

Like truth’s a crime in your fragile world.

You don’t debate, you just declare,

That different thoughts are hate to bear.

You scream “offense!” like it’s a sword,

While silencing what you can’t afford.

You never asked, you never knew,

But now you’re crying—boo-hoo-hoo.

(Chorus)

It’s the trigger parade, roll out the shame,

Point your fingers, play the blame game.

You melt like wax when someone speaks,

But call them “Nazis” every week.

You want a world that’s bubble-wrapped,

Where facts are rude and minds get slapped.

But I won’t bend, I won’t behave—

I’m not marching in your trigger parade.

(Verse 2)

You weaponize your fragile feels,

While truth gets buried under squeals.

You call it “harm,” you call it “hate,”

When someone dares to question fate.

You preach “inclusion,” “safe and kind,”

But blacklist every different mind.

You want control, not dialogue,

Just echo chambers, thick with fog.

(Bridge)

You don’t want freedom, you want a leash,

A world of silence, dressed as peace.

But I’ve got words, and I’ve got spine,

And I won’t trade them for your whine.

(Chorus)

It’s the trigger parade, roll out the shame,

Point your fingers, play the blame game.

You melt like wax when someone speaks,

But call them “Nazis” every week.

You want a world that’s bubble-wrapped,

Where facts are rude and minds get slapped.

But I won’t bend, I won’t behave—

I’m not marching in your trigger parade.

(Outro)

So cry your tears, and clutch your chest,

I’ll keep on speaking—no regrets.

You can cancel, scream, and rave,

But I’m not joining your trigger parade

Trigger Parade

A Hero's Tale

You never speak first—just wait for the wind,

Scan every face before letting thought begin.

Truth makes you tremble, not because it’s loud,

But because it stands alone, unblessed by the crowd.

You fear the cost of a solitary stance,

So you trade conviction for a safer dance.

No questions asked, no risks embraced—

Just borrowed beliefs in a borrowed face.

[Verse 1: Cowards in Costume]

You don’t ask questions—you cower in submission,

Refuse to even think without receiving permission.

You don’t form thoughts, you forage for cues,

Terrified silence in algorithm shoes.

You don’t stand firm, you scan for applause,

Every word filtered through fear of faux loss.

You don’t seek meaning, you mimic the crowd,

A puppet of peers, too passive to be proud.

You don’t debate, you deflect and perform,

Scared of the storm, so you worship the norm.

You don’t own your voice, you rent it for likes,

Trading your spine for a seat on the mic.

[Hook: Funeral Claps]

Funeral claps, no facts, just shallow delight,

When a man gets erased for defending what’s right.

You ain’t free, you’re a hostage to tribal applause,

Cheering for death like it’s a noble cause.

[Verse 2: Approval Addicts]

You hated his peace ‘cause it made you feel fake,

He stood for respect, you stood for the take.

He was a father, a husband, a voice for the meek,

You were a coward too lazy to speak.

You don’t speak truth—you sample the script,

Scared to be wrong, so your courage is clipped.

You don’t ask why, you ask what’s allowed,

Begging for safety in the arms of the crowd.

You don’t lose friends—you never had them,

Just fragile alliances built to condemn.

You don’t fear exile, you fear being seen,

So you bury your soul in a digital screen.

You don’t stand alone, you collapse on demand,

A coward in costume, afraid to withstand.

You don’t live free, you live for the nod,

A slave to approval, pretending you’re God.

[Hook: Funeral Claps]

Funeral claps, no facts, just shallow delight,

When a man gets erased for defending what’s right.

You ain’t free, you’re a hostage to tribal applause,

Cheering for death like it’s a noble cause.

[Bridge: The Mirror]

You never hated him—you hated reflection,

Hated restraint, hated connection.

Hated the man who made you feel small

By standing for peace while you begged for a brawl.

You play grown-up in a costume stitched with pride,

But tantrums spill out every time you're denied.

No mirror, no shame, just loud declarations—

A child in disguise, craving validation.

You ain’t thinkers, you’re theater-fed ghosts,

Living for likes, not for what matters most.

You ain’t brave, you’re buried in trends,

Cheering for graves that your soul won’t defend.

[Final Hook: Funeral Claps]

Funeral claps, no facts, just shallow delight,

When a man gets erased for defending what’s right.

You ain’t free, you’re a hostage to tribal applause,

Cheering for death like it’s a noble cause.

Main Character

T.R.Y.

Related tracks