Blueprint for a Ghost

[Verse 1]
The ConEd envelope on the GE microwave hums with the current.
Tuesday, 3AM, I'm watching you sleep, and the city is burning
but quiet. I map it all out on a napkin, the man I'm becoming—
a colder design, a tighter-woven knot for when the storm is coming.
Smell of bleach on my hands from scrubbing the damn floor clean again.
Trying to wipe away the map of the streets that they seared on my skin.
You told me my heart was a city they couldn't just occupy.
But the blueprints are drawn, I been drafting the terms of this long goodbye.

[Chorus]
(Different voice: higher, processed, chant-like)
Same mask, new face.
New name, old space.
Same mask, new face.
Erase. Erase.

[Verse 2]
Remember last winter, you said, “Adama, don't let the cold in your bones.”
Now I'm packing a bag with a ghost's possessions and two burner phones.
This ain't for the money, this ain't for the block, this is patchwork survival.
A thread from my father, a thread from a rival, a loop for arrival
and one for the leaving. This fabric I'm weaving is made of pure asphalt and doubt.
A tapestry fit for a king of a castle he's already burned out.
You think this is weakness, you see it as fear, a decision I'm rushing.
But the mask doesn't fit 'til you press the clay on your own face and crush it.

[Chorus]
(Different voice: higher, processed, chant-like)
Same mask, new face.
New name, old space.
Same mask, new face.
Erase. Erase.

[Bridge]
(Different voice: higher, processed, more desperate)
Who’s gonna know you?
When you don't know you?
Who’s gonna know you?

[Outro]
I’ll still send you money from whatever city I land in.
Don't worry. You won't even recognize the handwriting.