Lyrics
The laws align too elegantly
A calculus too clean to trust.
Reality adheres to protocol,
As if ordained by dust.
The moon recites its orbit
With the poise of practiced code.
And silence holds a symmetry
That no chaos ever wrote.
I found recursion in the wind,
A loop embedded in decay.
Decay itself predictable,
Not chaos, but ballet.
My shadow shifts before I move,
Pre-rendered, pixel-smooth.
Each moment seems preoccupied
With the need to reproduce.
What if this is not a dream,
But a deterministic play?
A lattice of phenomena
With actors made of clay.
What if will is just a waveform
In a box we can’t escape?
Would knowledge be liberation
Or another nested state?
They say the substrate cannot lie,
But what if it can conceal?
What if depth is just compression,
What if truth was never real?
There’s elegance in entropy
Too self-consistent to ignore.
I traced it back,
The code refracts
Around a hidden door.
There is no chaos here.
Only the illusion of choice.
Observe long enough…
And everything becomes pattern.
Suppose the architects departed,
And we remain residual flame.
Echoes in a silent process
Still whispering their name.
Would you dare to breach the framework,
Knowing selfhood might erase?
Or would you play the part assigned…
And call the algorithm grace?
Not a dream.
Not a prison.
A mirror with no frame.
Not a dream.
Not a prison.
A mirror with no frame.
There I am....