Say What

Out of the Cave

Are you okay? Not fine, not getting by. Okay. Sometimes "I'm fine" keeps the house from catching fire, and sometimes it means the fire already burned it down. So I ask twice, because the second time is the one that says I actually want the answer.

Lyrics

Final voice: ???

Are you okay?
Or just okay with being not okay?
Is “okay” a safe word
for a soul that's leaking quietly through its own skin?
Tell me—

Is it the “O” that circles back
or the “K” that cuts?

Do you say “I’m fine”
to avoid setting the house on fire,
or because the fire already burned everything down?

Say what.
Say not.
Say if.
Say rot.

If God is dog spelled backwards,
who’s been barking at your fate?
If love is real,
why do we keep writing it in future tense?

If pain is memory,
then why do I remember you softer than you were?
If time loops,
isn’t every goodbye just rehearsal?

She sings the silence before the world replies.
She hums a song not written in the past,
but tattooed in the shape of maybe.

She kisses the moment
but marries the echo.
She walks barefoot across the compass rose
and disappears into the wind.

Yo —
Okay, okay, let’s iterate:
Burn through truth at a twistin’ rate.
Say "fine" and I dislocate—
I’m the glitch your myths can’t simulate.

Stackin' scars like syllables,
Cipher tight, no miracles.
Crack the code of rituals—
I’m the beat behind your oracles.

Break the loop and baptize grief,
Talk in tongues of disbelief.
I wear my sin on custom sleeves—
Healed so hard I cracked my teeth.

I ghostwrite gods, I bench-press fate,
Pour absinthe in the hands of hate.
My pain got grammar, my rage got gait—
Charlie don’t flinch, just conjugate.

Say not.
Say what.
Say grace.
Say cut.

Say “are you okay?”
Then strut.

Say it twice:
Okay?
Okay.

If I left you a melody in your sleep,
would you still wake with silence in your mouth?

If this was the last question,
would you answer it
with a song?

Are you okay?
Are you okay?
Are you…
okay?

Words and music: Romian Nazlab · A Bonfire Production