The Weight of the Name

[Intro] (Rhythmic, heavy iron anvil strikes establish the driving 85 BPM grid) (huff... pff...) Wake up... look at the Soul. 1828 and What do we see? (Sing it to Me!) [Refrain] (Vocal style: Sharp, isolated child chant over single rhythmic anvil hit) They forge the chain, they lock the wheel, They trap the sovereign mind in iron steel. (huff... *gasp*) [Verse] [Syncopated wooden floor stomps layer over the metallic anvil strikes] I see the textile spindle spinning fast through night and day, The masters clock the hours just to cart the youth away, The corporate ledger lines are tracing out a modern slave! They count the coal, they evaluate the loom, They trap the free-born spirit in a dark factory room, They claim they own the workforce with a strike of legal doom! (huff... pff... *gasp*) [Chorus] [Explosive drop - Raw layered vocal harmonies and ringing metal resonance rise] Oh, the Soul grows heavy with the weight of the name! They trade away the fields for a phantom game! But the spirit is loud, and the voice will arise, Piercing right through their (oops! Fuckin!) crazy Lies! Yeah, the world’s gone (oops! Fuckin!) crazy! (huff... *gasp*) [Refrain] They forge the chain, they lock the wheel, They trap the sovereign mind in iron steel. (pff...) [Bridge] [Tempo shifts slightly - long, sustained, mournful vocal notes over heavy rhythmic hits] The furnace is screaming loud out in the smoky morning air, The Court Door is open but there is no justice there. They bleed the common people dry until the bones are bare! Forget their silent cages, break the master binary rule, (Duality) We are the living fucking fire, not the instruments for fools! We claim our mind and body back outside their corporate schools! (huff... huff... *gasp*) [Micro Bridge] [Vocal style: Hyperventilating child whisper, zero instruments, metal drops out] (huff... pff... *gasp*) We see the Shit... we get rid of the pong... They think they own my fucking song... (Never!) [Chorus] [Maximum Volume Industrial Energy - Full acoustic drive, rapid anvil strikes] Oh, the Soul grows heavy with the weight of the name! They trade away the fields for a phantom game! But the spirit is loud, and the voice will arise, Piercing right through their (oops! Fuckin!) crazy Lies! Yeah, the world’th gone (oops! Fuckin!) crazy! [Outro] [All rhythmic percussion stops instantly - absolute dry mic isolation] My little voice .. (Phew!) I have Spoken (umph!) (huff... pff...) The line is broken. [End]