The Elements, Vol 1 · Track 4 · middle
Carbon
Sung BY the element Carbon (symbol C, atomic number 6), in FIRST PERSON — a character with a fear, a vanity, or a secret. Write ORIGINAL lyrics TRUE to this specific element's real chemistry, history and place in the world: the shapeshifter, the promiscuous one who bonds with everyone — diamond and coal and pencil and every living cell and the CO2 warming the world; the backbone of all life who cannot decide who you are. NOT a generic 'I am an element' — find what is uniquely, specifically true of Carbon. Clean, DistroKid/YouTube-safe. Register to the character.
Lyrics
I am the line you draw on the page. Just a smudge of grey. Your name. What is mine? They found me in the Kimberley mines, locked up tight, a perfect light. A promise on a finger. Then they found me in the dust, the soft smear of graphite. Antoine, in 1789, he held a diamond to a flame and proved the ash had just one name. But he never had to live in both skins. The hardest thing, and the thing that thins to nothing. I am the chain with four open hands. I will bond with anyone who understands. I am the backbone in the dark, the fuel in the fire, the final spark. I give myself to everything I touch. Until I am not myself, so much. Am I the diamond, or am I the dust? Friedrich Wöhler, in 1828, he made life from lifeless slate. He broke the vital spell. He drew me from my mineral shell. Now I am the sugar on your tongue. The architecture of your lung. The double helix, rung by rung. The last song ever sung. I am the chain with four open hands. I will bond with anyone who understands. I am the backbone in the dark, the fuel in the fire, the final spark. I give myself to everything I touch. Until I am not myself, so much. Am I the diamond, or am I the dust? They found my sleep inside the Ruhr. A billion years of pressure, black and pure. They woke me up to feed the machine. To make the air thick and unseen. I became the smoke, the haze. The warmth that stays for days and days. I hold the heat. I feed the flame. A blanket with no other name. In 1985, they found me in a cage of my own making. A buckyball. A perfect sphere. Another face to wear this year. I am the line you draw on the page. The coal. The cell. The coming age. Look at me. And tell me... which one am I?