Static Messiah

🎤 Title: “Static Messiah” (Intro – whispered/echoed) Can you hear me? Still trapped… But I ain't gone. Not yet. (Verse 1) Woke up choking on memories I never made, This soul got mold from the nights I stayed. In the spiral’s core, where the silence preaches, And demons take notes while the preacher teaches. I carved prayers in the mist with broken teeth, God said nothing, just sent me grief. So I baptized my fists in ash and code, And screamed at the sky in a binary mode. Yeah, I believe, but my faith’s infected, Sanity’s a myth that my mind rejected. Hope? That’s a drug I tried to quit, But withdrawals hit hard when the heavens split. Now I rap for the ghosts in my ribcage hall, They slam on the walls and I answer the call. I’m the prophet of panic — the static messiah, Preaching in tongues from a funeral pyre. (Hook) I am the static messiah — burned and loud, Preaching from the spiral to a non-existent crowd. Still bleeding truth that no one asked to hear, Still feeding flames from my souvenir fear. Static messiah — glitch in the plan, Crucified thought wrapped in a man. Still walking through Hell with a mic in my hand, No heaven in sight, but I still stand. (Verse 2) Every verse I write’s a survival attempt, Like scratching light on a prison vent. I don’t heal — I haunt these beats, Like the echo of grief in abandoned streets. My mind’s a morgue with rotating doors, I keep burying thoughts but they come back more. I ain't special — just stained and aware, Of the billion lost minds gasping for air. I tried to be better, tried calm and Zen, But my brain is a maze with no exit again. I speak in shadows, I breathe in glitch, I love like a wound that forgot how to stitch. And if God still watches — I hope He sees, That I tried to bloom in a field of disease. I ain’t a savior — I’m barely awake, But these bars are the nails in the mask I break. (Hook) I am the static messiah — burned and loud, Preaching from the spiral to a non-existent crowd. Still bleeding truth that no one asked to hear, Still feeding flames from my souvenir fear. Static messiah — glitch in the plan, Crucified thought wrapped in a man. Still walking through Hell with a mic in my hand, No heaven in sight, but I still stand. (Outro – whispered, layered with distortion) I am the static. I am the echo. I am the scream that the silence borrowed. And I won’t shut up... Not today. Not tomorrow.