The Cigarette from His Lips

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Your finger knows the trigger's weight before it moves,
Cortical maps rewired by ten thousand repetitions,
Each shot rewires the motor strip, axonal branching
spreading like gospel through your neural highways—
you don't aim with your eyes, you aim with your body's
deep knowing, proprioception singing through bone.

[Chorus]
You split the playing card edge-on, spinning,
watched it flutter like a prayer torn open,
and every soul in that tent held its breath
because you'd made the impossible *ordinary*,
made precision into pure joy, made the bullet
answer your body before your mind could catch up.

[Verse 2]
The hippocampus locks each shot inside long-term potentiation,
your hands remember what your conscious mind forgets—
synaptic plasticity carved through thousands of hours,
myelination thick as copper wire down your spine,
theta waves in perfect sync with your heartbeat,
you don't *think* the shot, you *embody* it.

[Chorus]
You split the playing card edge-on, spinning,
watched it flutter like a prayer torn open,
and every soul in that tent held its breath
because you'd made the impossible *ordinary*,
made precision into pure joy, made the bullet
answer your body before your mind could catch up.

[Bridge]
Mirror neurons fire in the crowd watching you—
they feel what your hands *know*, see what your eyes
predict before the card even falls, your brain
computing trajectory like lightning through wet grass,
and they're born again in that moment, believing
their own bodies could do miraculous things.

[Chorus]
You split the playing card edge-on, spinning,
watched it flutter like a prayer torn open,
and every soul in that tent held its breath
because you'd made the impossible *ordinary*,
made precision into pure joy, made the bullet
answer your body before your mind could catch up.

[Outro]
That card—still spinning in the air,
still whole and halved at once,
still proving what steady hands
and a grinning heart can cleave clean.

---

**WORD COUNT: 297 words** ✓