The Clothes That Were Not His (Edgar Allan Poe)

Lyrics

**CENTRAL IMAGE:** The raven perched on the pallid bust—obsessive repetition, the mechanical return of a single word, the torment of recursive thought.

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[Verse 1]
Your mind builds mansions out of dread,
Each corridor a thought twice-read,
The raven lands, says "Nevermore,"
And your synaptic pathways pour
Like candle wax on marble floors—
You *know* it's coming, still you're drawn.

[Chorus]
You've wired your own beautiful breaking,
Made mirrors from the things that haunt,
Your cortex singing what it's making,
While shadows do the thing you want—
The word returns, returns, returns,
And watch your brilliant neurons burn.

[Verse 2]
Your long-term potentiation burns
Each synapse deeper as it learns
That repetition carves the groove,
That *theta waves* through limbic prove
Your deepest dread's your truest move—
You built the lock, you swallowed keys.

[Chorus]
You've wired your own beautiful breaking,
Made mirrors from the things that haunt,
Your cortex singing what it's making,
While shadows do the thing you want—
The word returns, returns, returns,
And watch your brilliant neurons burn.

[Bridge]
Your *mirror neurons* map the pain,
Predict the raven's dark refrain,
You feel what darkness feels in you—
Your *proprioception* knows it's true:
You *are* the haunted and the haunt,
You *are* the beast, the bust, the want.

[Chorus]
You've wired your own beautiful breaking,
Made mirrors from the things that haunt,
Your cortex singing what it's making,
While shadows do the thing you want—
The word returns, returns, returns,
And watch your brilliant neurons burn.

[Outro]
The raven never leaves your shoulder,
But *you* grow wiser, stranger, bolder—
Your beautiful obsession *is* the art,
Each shadow perfectly placed inside your heart.

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**WORD COUNT:** 276 words ✓