MODEL UNIT

[Verse 1]
(A cappella)
The keycard clicks, no jiggle, the green light is obscene.
He stands inside the silence of a life scrubbed too clean.
(Beat drops)
Smell of primer paint, the HVAC's low, sterile hum.
Floor-to-ceiling window where the city's rendered numb.
He traces out the pattern on the marble of the isle,
remembers chipped Formica and his mother's tired smile.
This is the high-rise heaven, the blueprint come to life,
the sharp and quiet weapon that doubles as a knife.

[Chorus]
This the picture from the brochure, that twenty-ninth floor view.
Got the whole damn city silent, and not a single soul with you.
This the picture from the brochure, the price you had to pay.
For a kingdom full of echoes at the closing of the day.

[Verse 2]
He sees the flicker of a ConEd bill on a phantom microwave,
the ghost of foutou steaming, a memory he saves.
But here the air is filtered, it doesn't hold a thing,
no ghosts of heated arguments or songs they used to sing.
His father's voice a specter, a static on the line,
"An engineer builds structures that can stand the test of time."
This ain't a Kente fabric, it's just a single silver thread,
pulled loose from every promise his neighborhood once said.

[Chorus]
This the picture from the brochure, that twenty-ninth floor view.
Got the whole damn city silent, and not a single soul with you.
This the picture from the brochure, the price you had to pay.
For a kingdom full of echoes at the closing of the day.

[Bridge]
He sees a mask reflected in the glass, pristine and bold,
a stranger's face he purchased for a story to be told.
The boy from Canarsie's somewhere down below the line of sight,
lost inside the glare of all this artificial light.

[Outro]
The keycard clicks. The silence rushes in.
The keycard clicks. And waits for him to begin.