Soul Trap

Soul Trap Verse 1: The night life is calling with a neon flare, A fast track to nowhere with a head full of air. The celebrity high life, the head in the clouds, Lost in the echo of the shouting crowds. You're pushing high-end car, but it’s empty of gas, Just a hollowed-out ghost while you’re puffing the grass. Zig-zag through the traffic, through the red and the green, While the police traps wait for the soul to be seen. Chorus: It’s a quicksand for the spirit and mind, Where the frosted nostrils leave the vision behind. Flying like a kite while the child isn't fed, Trading in the crown for a stone in the bed. It’s a death-trap dance in the middle of the night, The hype climbs loud, but it never takes flight. Verse 2: You’re building a kingdom on hollow ground, With empty designer bags by a broken door. A destructive path, just a waste of a life, Trading sovereign peace for the edge of a knife. The talentless hacks sold their souls for the fame, Just a hollowed-out shell with a glittering name. You’re trying to keep up with the rich and the fake, But you’re drowning in debt for a vanity’s sake. Chorus: It’s a quicksand for the spirit and mind, Where the frosted nostrils leave the vision behind. Flying like a kite while the child isn't fed, Trading in the crown for a stone in the bed. It’s a death-trap dance in the middle of the night, The hype climbs loud, but it never takes flight. Verse 3: The auctioneer’s gavel is striking the wood, Selling the “Great” for lesser than good. You traded your time for a brand on your chest, While the rot takes root beneath your crest. It’s not a lecture — just a look at the math. The further you go — the dimmer the light, The darker the trap and the bitter the path. I’d break from the block in the middle of the night. Chorus: It’s a quicksand for the spirit and mind, Where the frosted nostrils leave the vision behind. Flying like a kite while the child isn't fed, Trading in the crown for a stone in the bed. It’s a death-trap dance in the middle of the night, The hype climbs loud, but it never takes flight. Outro: [Music fades to a low, rhythmic drone] [Spoken with cold, sovereign authority] Look at the hands of the clock. Every second spent chasing their shadow, times spent neglecting your own kingdom. The block is only active as long as you’re standing on it. Step down — Sovereignty never auctions its crown.