The Shirt Was Already Torn

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
You split the atom of a moment,
held it open—chair pivoting, hand raised,
that gesture becoming the whole language.
Your mirror neurons fired at full velocity,
reading the room before the room knew itself,
and every script bent toward your breath.
You taught the world that decision lives
in the body first, words follow after.

[Chorus]
You're the aperture we lean through,
the question mark that refuses to close,
the voice that says *yes* to the impossible
and makes it breathe beside us.
Your certainty was a gift—
not arrogance, but synaptic permission.

[Verse 2]
Watch your cortex remapping constantly,
new pathiances firing, old pathways yielding,
the plasticity of a mind that wouldn't calcify.
You inhabited roles like a neuron branches—
axonal sprouting in every direction,
reaching toward characters the script hadn't finished,
long-term potentiation of becoming,
each take burning deeper grooves of *alive*.
Your interoception was precise:
you felt the beat before the band played it.

[Chorus]
You're the aperture we lean through,
the question mark that refuses to close,
the voice that says *yes* to the impossible
and makes it breathe beside us.
Your certainty was a gift—
not arrogance, but synaptic permission.

[Bridge]
In the chair, you were always arriving,
theta waves of attention at their peak,
that hand lifting toward tomorrow,
and the whole nervous system of meaning
trembling in your throat—
you made us believe intention is enough
to cross the dark.

[Chorus]
You're the aperture we lean through,
the question mark that refuses to close,
the voice that says *yes* to the impossible
and makes it breathe beside us.
Your certainty was a gift—
not arrogance, but synaptic permission.

[Outro]
The chair is still turning.
Your hand is still rising.
The aperture stays open.