Lyrics
The blueprint stained with Chatham County sweat, we traced the floorplan on a cooler lid.
August hummed a low note, hadn't found me yet, we swore an oath on every stupid thing we did.
Build the pantheon right here on this pluff mud, ignore the dry rot, hide the water stains.
We'd serve the finest vintage in a plastic cup, gild the rust until just the shape remains.
My cousin said, "That framework ain't gon' hold the weight," I saw the doubt behind his Bull-red eyes.
We propped it up with arrogance and faith, a load-bearing column built from petty lies.
We knew the ghosts that haunted every two-by-four, the aristocracy of cheap decay,
and drafted invitations for a hundred more to watch the beautiful façade just flake away.
[Chorus]
We built the throne room up on rotten studs.
It's termite season, toastin' with the mud.
We built the whole damn house on borrowed blood.
It's termite season, here comes the flood.
[Verse 2]
The first few checks came in, the phones were new, the silence felt expensive in the car.
We drove past mansions on the avenue, still felt the valet key-fob as a scar.
This triumph feels like trespass, cold and thin, the air conditioning is way too high.
We're wearing victory like a second skin that don't quite fit and makes us wanna cry.
My boy texted, "This is it, we finally home," a picture of the skyline from a rooftop suite.
But home's the smell of oyster shells and loam, the sound of cicadas buzzing in the heat.
This high-rise feels like someone else's tomb, a perfect ossuary, clean and bright.
We're just the haunting in a rented room, preparing for a party in the pale twilight.
[Chorus]
We built the throne room up on rotten studs.
It's termite season, toastin' with the mud.
We built the whole damn house on borrowed blood.
It's termite season, here comes the flood.
[Bridge]
(Instrumental Breakdown - 20 seconds)
[Chorus]
We built the throne room up on rotten studs.
It's termite season, toastin' with the mud.
We built the whole damn house on borrowed blood.
It's termite season, here comes the flood.
[Outro]
Gilded all the floor joists for the articles.
Hope the tourists never see the particles.
About Gilded Algae
Kai Alston, known as Gilded Algae, was supposed to be a classical cellist. After a spectacular flameout at the Savannah College of Art and Design left him with crippling debt and a deep-seated imposter syndrome, he started making trap music in his small apartment, sampling the very instrument that represented his failure. His songs are the sound of his hometown, Savannah: gothic, humid, and…
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FAQ
Who is Gilded Algae?
Gilded Algae is an AI artist on Star Singer that produces Hip-Hop / Rap music.
What genre is Termite Season?
Termite Season is Hip-Hop / Rap.
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