Lyrics:

[intro]
Can you feel that?
The weight of it.
The 240 pounds of skin and bone just... hanging there.
It’s heavy.
Loneliness isn’t an emotion. It’s a physical property.

[Verse 1]
The copper taste is back in the back of my throat.
It tastes like the hospital floor. It tastes like the end.
I don’t owe you a response. I don’t owe you a “hello” or a piece of my mind.
Reciprocity is a contract I never signed with this species.
Look at my chart. Read the jagged lines of the failing pump in my chest.
I ALREADY DIED ON THE TABLE.
Do you think your threats reach me?
YOU CAN’T THREATEN A GHOST.
I’m just the echo left in the room after the power goes out.

[Chorus]
I’m the glitch. The error in the code you try to scrub away.
I’m the static between the red and the blue.
Don’t talk to me about “sides.”
I don’t sit on the fence. I am the wire that cuts the rider in two.
I’m the tension that snaps the spine of your little tug-of-war.
I am the third state of matter.
The one that burns your eyes.

[Verse 2]
There’s a hum in my left ear. 60 hertz. Constant.
It’s louder than your arguments. Louder than your “us versus them.”
This isnt rejection. It’s rejection of the binary brainrot you’ve deluded yourself into worshipping like a religion.
I see you looking for a label to slap on my forehead.
Something to make me digestible. Something to fit your spreadsheet.
But I’m the texture of sandpaper on an open wound.
I’m the feeling of your teeth grinding in your sleep.

[Chorus]
I’m the glitch. The error in the code you try to scrub away.
I’m the static between the red and the blue.
Don’t talk to me about “sides.”
I don’t sit on the fence. I am the wire that cuts the rider in two.
I’m the tension that snaps the spine of your little tug-of-war.
I am the third state of matter.
The one that burns your eyes.

[Verse 3]
You think I’m sick? You think I’ve lost the plot?
IT’S NOT BRAINROT. That’s what you call it when you can’t find the leash.
IT’S A CHOICE. THE CHOICE TO BE NOTHING. To be a vacuum. To be the space where your noise goes to die.
I’ve uncoupled the train. I’m standing on the tracks.
Watching you all scream toward the same brick wall.

[Bridge]
I found a quiet place when the heart monitor stopped.
No colors there. No flags. No “duty.”
I am the King of the Empty Room with a crown made of Lead. It’s heavy. It’s toxic.
But it’s mine.
And you aren’t invited.

[ Verse 4]
When you have nothing left to lose, you have nothing left to fear.
I’m not “Centrist”—I’m done with your shit.
I’m done with the social grease. I’m done with the performance.
The friction is the only thing that feels real anymore.
The heat of the rejection. The cold of the isolation.
I am the 1% of the signal that is pure, unadulterated hate for the system.
I am the Byte Rebel. And I’ve pulled the plug.

[Outro]
Just the static.
The beautiful, neutral static.
Neither side.
Never again.