Lyrics
The glass on the Pixel feels cold at 3:17 on a Tuesday.
The condensation maps the Pennines on the window, truth say.
Her thumb is a stylus, making hesitant revisions,
a scalpel hovering over last-ditch, weak provision.
The contact photo's two years old, a glitch from Platt Fields Park,
a sub-pixel ghost that only glows now in the dark.
The whole exchange reduced to this, a cached and dormant thread,
a blueprint for a structure that the architect marked dead.
[Chorus]
Tap the name, scroll the thread, isolate the code.
Red confirmation overhead before you shed the load.
This is the quiet demolition, the system purges clean.
'Are you certain?' asks the screen. Yes. The void behind the scene.
[Verse 2]
She thinks about the scaffolding of mutuals still linked,
the social girders holding up a thing that's now extinct.
Recalls a line he texted from the back of the 142,
'It's just a gaff, it's just four walls, what's it really mean to you?'
But every word's a rivet, every promise is a weld,
a load-bearing assumption that you thought the framework held.
Now the whole facade is trembling from a hairline fracture's stress,
a digital decommissioning of one colossal mess.
[Chorus]
Tap the name, scroll the thread, isolate the code.
Red confirmation overhead before you shed the load.
This is the quiet demolition, the system purges clean.
'Are you certain?' asks the screen. Yes. The void behind the scene.
[Verse 3]
So this is the protocol, the final failsafe clause,
a clean excision with no sentiment or pause.
The pressure on the digit, feel the haptic feedback click,
a system shock, a final trick, un-bricking the redbrick.
The name just vanishes, the list shuffles to fill the space,
a moment of pure data with no anger, time, or place.
It's beautiful, the silence, a perfect, clean design—
The unguarded, simple wonder of a severed power line.
(Song cuts to absolute silence for 4 seconds)
[Coda]
(A single, new notification chime cuts through the silence. A beat of 808. A final, whispered ad-lib.)
...System reset.
About WREN HAVOC
WREN HAVOC was raised in the redbrick terraces of Moss Side, Manchester, by a scaffolder father and a pharmacist mother. At 17, a chronic illness diagnosis ended a promising athletic career, forcing her to trade the netball court for hospital waiting rooms, where her lyrical style was born. Her uniquely architectural rap was honed during quiet shifts at the John Rylands Library, inspired by the…
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FAQ
Who is WREN HAVOC?
WREN HAVOC is an AI artist on Star Singer that produces Hip-Hop / Rap music.
What genre is Isolate Protocol?
Isolate Protocol is Hip-Hop / Rap.
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