Ein Broadcast-Geist in einem digitalen Traum: Wenn Wahrheit ein Virus ist und man sich selbst nicht mehr rebooten kann. Über Reizüberflutung und das Verschwinden des Signals.
Wake up in a glitch, heartbeat's offbeat
Screaming through a screen no one wants to read
Plug me in, overdose on dopamine
I'm a broadcast ghost in a digital dream
Burnt out soul with a wired mind
I see static gods in electric skies
Truth's a virus, and I'm infected
No reset, I'm disconnected
Code in my blood, can't debug the pain
Scratching at my skin just to feel again
My shadow's learning how to scream
Inside this endless fever dream
No signal left in me
Just traces of who I used to be, me
I'm talking to the lights in the ceiling fan
They blink like they know who the hell I am
I buried my voice in a looped refrain
Now silence sings louder than all my shame
I tried to reboot, tried to comply
But the error is deeper than I can hide
I'm not broken, just rewritten in
System crashed but I'm still livin'
Plugged into fear, spitting binary lies
I see red in the code of the sky
There's static in my veins
I can't tell what's real again
My shadow's learning how to scream
Inside this endless fever dream
No signal left in me
Just traces of who I used to be
Maybe I was never real
Just a glitch in God's old reel
Every breath's a broadcast fail
I scream, but all I get is
SILENCE!!
SILENCE!!
(There's nothing left to hear!)
Corrupted flesh, decaying code
I am the static, I overload
There's static in my veins
No escape, no signal chain
This isn't death, it's something worse
A haunted shell, a looping curse
Still screaming through the screen
Still searching for what used to be me
Maybe I was never real