Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Canonical) · Track 311 · middle
The Debutante and the Hyena
Leonora Carrington
Lyrics
[Verse 1] Your canvas breathes like it's been dreaming all along— those horses rear and twist through doorways that don't exist, their manes electric with the charge of synaptic fire. You painted what the waking world refuses: the mirror neurons firing when you watched them move, their panic, their knowing, their absolute refusal to stay still. You made the invisible visible— the gallop inside the mind. [Chorus] Your hands knew what your hands were doing before your hands could speak it. Cortical remapping, pixel by pixel, you rewired the whole cathedral. The horses stamped it true. Every brushstroke was a synapse learning how to love what it feared most. [Verse 2] In the chamber where you worked alone, theta waves hummed through your fingers— that frequency where dreams don't ask permission. Your brush moved through long-term potentiation, each layer building on the last, myelination wrapped around each line like nerve sheath. The horses never needed to be named. They needed to be seen stamping their hooves through the corridors of your seeing. [Chorus] Your hands knew what your hands were doing before your hands could speak it. Cortical remapping, pixel by pixel, you rewired the whole cathedral. The horses stamped it true. Every brushstroke was a synapse learning how to love what it feared most. [Bridge] Your interoception so alive— you felt the animal inside the canvas before the canvas knew it was alive. Proprioception of the spirit: you mapped the space between terror and beauty and hung it dripping on the wall. The horses were never metaphor. They were proof. [Chorus] Your hands knew what your hands were doing before your hands could speak it. Cortical remapping, pixel by pixel, you rewired the whole cathedral. The horses stamped it true. Every brushstroke was a synapse learning how to love what it feared most. [Outro] There they are still— those horses rearing through your doorways, their neuronal fire catching light, their manes still reaching, refusing the frame you gave them, wild and seen and absolutely alive.