The city breathes in coded light,
dreams collide with sleepless nights.
You said the future feels so near,
but every echo disappears.
The air is full of static ghosts,
whispers from the things we've lost.
We chase the dawn through shattered glass,
hoping the silence will not last.
And in the hum beneath the glow,
there's something only we still know.
We are the noise of tomorrow,
born from the static and sorrow,
can't let go.
In the pulse, in the hollow,
we are the noise of tomorrow.
My silence is not weakness,
it's a warning.
You think my silence means I'm weak, that
I have nothing to say, that I've given up?
Number.
My silence is power.
My silence is
control.
My silence is the calm before the storm.
I don't waste words on people who don't
deserve them.
I don't explain myself to those who never try to understand me.
I don't react
to disrespect.
I watch.
flow,
singing what we can't let go.
In the pulse,
in the hollow,
we are the noise of tomorrow.
The sound we keep and frequencies that never sleep
every tear
signal flare
Calling out to someone there and when the
world forgets our names the echoes will
Remain the same
We dare to dream