Project: A new era

02 THE SCREAM

Tears, only frost or dew beneath the sun.

Morning has salt upon its tongue; don't play with words when harm is done.
Tears, just a rainbow mirrored in the blue.
With the rapier of your tongue, you ran this heart completely through.
So scream, scream, perhaps one scream can save your life.
So scream, scream; make the whole earth shake tonight.
Tears, lock the dream away inside a drawer.
No key beneath the pillow, only cobwebs on the floor.
Tears, snow globes emptied of their snow.
All the bullshit you were peddlin, not a priest would swallow, though.
So scream, scream, perhaps one scream can save your life.
So scream, scream, spit your soul into the glass.
Tears, icy flames along your face,
Fleeting furrows etched by sorrow that erase each smiling trace.
Tears, rivers yearning to be warm,
For endless, fierce embraces, till the black gives way and colour's born.
So scream, scream, perhaps one scream can save your life.
So scream, scream, drown your hell beneath the tide.
Tears, foolish pearls whose gleam is dead.
Shed your skin just like a serpent; cast off love, choose sex instead.
Tears, scraps of life discarded, thrown away.
Of all your lidless pots, one photograph is all that stays.
So scream, scream, perhaps one scream can save your life.
So scream, scream, to the very end, don't ask yourself why.
And scream, scream, ever louder, let it rise.
So scream, scream, perhaps one scream can save your life.

Not all tears fall softly, gently tracing the face.

Some scratch, burn and freeze. Others remain caught where no one can see them: beneath a carpet, inside a locked drawer, behind a sentence well spoken and badly meant. They seem fragile, yet they possess a memory. They remember lies, broken promises, loves mistaken for shelter that became rooms with no way out.

Here, pain asks no permission. It enters and demands space. It becomes rhythm, body, broken breath. It takes everything that has been held back for too long and drives it towards the only exit left: the voice. The scream.

To scream, then, is not to lose control. It is to reclaim it.

It means spitting out the soul before it turns to poison, plunging hell somewhere it can no longer rule, shedding one's skin before the past hardens into an immutable destiny.

The Scream is a song that offers no consolation, because it has no wish to.

And so, while the earth trembles, something is finally set free.