Twenty-Five Months in the Annex

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Your pencil finds the margin—
each word a synapse firing in the dark,
fingers moving fast as mirror neurons learn
what it means to speak when speaking breaks the law.
That attic room becomes your cortex,
every page a hippocampal trace,
consolidating fear into language,
turning silence into synaptic bloom.

[Chorus]
You wrote yourself alive,
each sentence a long-term potentiation,
strengthening the pathways no one could erase.
Your voice travels through our myelinated nerves now,
ringing bright and uncontainable—
you knew exactly what you were making.

[Verse 2]
Thirteen and wired for honesty,
your axonal branches reaching toward a future
you couldn't see but wouldn't stop describing.
Petty cruelties, first love, the ache of growing
while the world collapses—you mapped it all,
your interoception so precise, so awake,
every tremor of your inner life made visible,
theta waves of dreaming through the floorboards.

[Chorus]
You wrote yourself alive,
each sentence a long-term potentiation,
strengthening the pathways no one could erase.
Your voice travels through our myelinated nerves now,
ringing bright and uncontainable—
you knew exactly what you were making.

[Bridge]
The glial cells of your attention
held steady in that hidden room—
you didn't know neurogenesis,
but you practiced it: creating worlds
where your own becoming mattered,
where witnessing yourself was an act of rebellion.

[Chorus]
You wrote yourself alive,
each sentence a long-term potentiation,
strengthening the pathways no one could erase.
Your voice travels through our myelinated nerves now,
ringing bright and uncontainable—
you knew exactly what you were making.

[Outro]
That attic room still holds your light—
paper and ink where you learned to say *I am,*
and we keep reading, keep listening,
keep proving you were right.