Lyrics

I wake to alarms screaming like unpaid debts,
Steel-gray dawn chewing on the edge of my bed,
My coffee tastes like clock hands grinding down,
Another morning choking on the city’s sound.

We trade our minutes for a paycheck’s ghost,
Running treadmills under flickering lights,
Dreams die on lunch breaks with cold hands,
We’re marathon mice, sprinting through the night.

Can you feel it? That panic in your lungs,
The hush before the traffic roars like guns,
We’re calendars tattooed on our skin,
We’re deadlines dressed like friends.

Spin me on the loom of lightning,
Thread by thread, day by day,
We’re born to burn, but here we are,
Punching clocks until we fray.

Raise your hands if you’re still breathing,
If the nine-to-five didn’t steal your spark,
Let the neon write our confession,
We were made for more than this dark.

The office hums like a fluorescent grave,
Emails stacking up like broken prayers,
Meetings chew hours you can’t get back,
They sell us freedom we can’t afford to wear.

Bosses barking while your soul goes numb,
Smiles forced in elevators, eyes to the floor,
Dreams filed under “Someday” in a dusty drawer,
A quiet riot in your heartbeat, wanting more.

Can you feel it? The thunder in your bones,
The tiny voice that says, “You’re not alone,”
We’re cubicle prophets with caffeine-stained hands,
Writing revolutions on Post-It notes where we stand.

Spin me on the loom of lightning,
Thread by thread, day by day,
We’re born to burn, but here we are,
Punching clocks until we fray.

Raise your hands if you’re still breathing,
If the paycheck didn’t kill your spark,
Let the neon write our confession,
We were made for more than this dark.

If this world ends, let it end with us laughing,
Walking out while the timecards burn,
Let it end with us dancing in traffic,
Daring the sunrise to watch us turn.

Every breath a quiet rebellion, every sigh a vow,
We are gardens growing in the cracks right now,
Lightning in our throats as we learn to sing,
We are more than rats, we are kings.

Let the morning find your heartbeat,
Sing the thunder, taste the dawn,
Trade the chaos for your freedom,
Turn the rat race into a song.

Spin me on the loom of lightning,
Thread by thread, day by day,
We’re born to burn, but here we are,
Punching clocks until we fray.

Raise your hands if you’re still breathing,
If the nine-to-five didn’t steal your spark,
Let the neon write our confession,
We were made for more than this dark.

And when the stars forget to glimmer, when the dawn is late,
We’ll be the whisper in the hush before the gates,
We are the fire that keeps on burning in the silence,
We are the hope that keeps returning, defiant, timeless.