🎵 STRIPED — The Man Behind Bars (Intro — whispered) A cigarette fades... A breath escapes... A man stands tall... Striped. Verse 1 — The Smoke Serpent A serpent of smoke slips through the bars, the wind says “run”, the moon says “not far.” Inside the cell, he leans on the night, counting his days by the flicker of light. Striped like the walls, like the coat he wears, like his name erased as he climbs the stairs. Under neon coughs, he dreams of sky, a hole in the dark where the stars might lie. A butt for a lamp, a breath for a prayer, he writes on the smoke what the world won’t dare. His mouth is his pen, the void his sheet, his heart keeps time with a hollow beat. Chorus — The Line One hard line — cut through his past, One hard line — that forever will last. One bright stroke, cold and true, Struck from the world — but still shining through. One hard line — lightning in a cage, One sharp line — between man and mirage. One clean cut, no law, no plea, Struck out... but standing — believe in me. Verse 2 — The Book of Fate A dawn of parchment rolls in his head, words catch fire, the silence bled. He rereads his life like a wounded scroll, each scar a spark, each loss a soul. He sees the streets, the rage, the run, the loves that burned, the wasted sun. The sirens, the eyes that turn away, the dreams that died before the day. Yet in his cage, he carves a star, with nail, with breath, with the ache he’s scarred. He says: “My freedom’s not beyond that wall, the world struck me out — I’ll rewrite it all.” Smoke climbs high, steady and right, an oath engraved in the steel and night. Each bar’s a line, each wound a word, his silence louder than what’s heard. Chorus — The Line (2nd time) One hard line — cut through his past, One hard line — that forever will last. One bright stroke, cold and true, Struck from the world — but still shining through. One hard line — in the hush of pain, One long line — written slow through rain. One clean mark, no faith, no law, Struck out... but standing — I saw. Verse 3 — The Striped Man Mornings fade, the body thins, eyes grow tired, but fire begins. The striped man’s skin turns stone and flame, half-man, half-shadow — none to blame. Then one day, the door gives way, light steps in like a whispered pray. One foot, then two — outside the wall, air hits hard, he hears the call. The smoke serpent rises, pale and true, he follows its dance, through the blue. Free, yet branded — life’s decree, the world stares back — he says, “See me.” “I’m struck out, but not from the dream, I carved my path through every seam. You crossed my name from your holy tome, but I walk your streets — your ghost, your home.” Bridge — The Final Line One hard line — through fear and shame, One hard line — through cross and flame. One bold bridge — across the void, One pure line — where dark’s destroyed. Cold that line, but his heart still burns, Straight that line, as the heavens turn. Outro — spoken, echo A serpent of smoke... a breath... a name crossed out, but never dead. (heartbeat, silence) Struck... and free.