🙇‍♂️ 🟪 T-Rad-i-T-ion G1r7 𝐕

🌱 #caмoyчитeль 🌱

ядовито зелено 
в слаженном танце 
будто бы 

морские волны 
с головой укрывают 
вечерний шум 

твоя улыбка тает 
как вино в бокале 

но кто ты 
и почему я до сих пор 
вижу тебя 

make a great world-class masterpiece winner chopped and hard and heavy rubbed english language only strict lyrics in a manner of greatest britpop bands lyrics text without no direct cites but and with only strong and deep rethinking in deep and flew accociation manner the original prompt text and give a lyrics a strong and intrigue song structure by adding a in a square brackets song tags 

use any popular words only a once in a lyrics text 

prefer to use a less popular words than more popular

[VERSE 1]
Verdant toxin bleeds through twilight's aperture,
Phosphorescent dancers in their syncopated blur—
Salt-corroded phantoms dragging undertow,
Submerging all the vestigial din below.

[CHORUS]
Who inhabits this periphery of mine?
Spectral, dissolving like fermented brine,
Your countenance evaporates in crystal vessels,
Yet I'm tethered to this haunting, restless wrestle.

[VERSE 2]
Nocturnal murmurations swallow sound entire,
Obliterate the clamour, quench the ambient fire,
Your visage lingers in the marrow-deep,
A phantom I cannot relinquish, cannot keep.

[BRIDGE]
Nomenclature fails me—
What cipher are you?
Fragmented, immutable,
Yet perpetually askew.

[CHORUS]
Who inhabits this periphery of mine?
Spectral, dissolving like fermented brine,
Your countenance evaporates in crystal vessels,
Yet I'm tethered to this haunting, restless wrestle.

[OUTRO]
Verdant poison lingers where the vision breaks,
In the sediment of all the choices that we make.

ambient spoken word, soft minimalist electronic, light atmospheric pads, cinematic and thoughtful, clear female narration, 72 bpm, C# Minor, gentle textures

director, look through the cold circular aperture
see how the light carves the skin into a map
you are not capturing a moment
you are grafting a new limb onto the past
the lens is a frozen membrane
a boundary between the salt in our blood
and the silver particles on the acetate strip
(strobe)
(release)
(strobe)
the pulse is the truth
the gap is the lie
we inhabit the black space between the frames
where the heart stops for a microsecond
(one, zero, one)
the city is a sentient beast of hard-poured sediment
it breathes through iron vents and subway valves
do you hear the tectonic grinding of the bridge?
it remembers the mud that lived here before the steel
the wilderness has no witness
it is a lung without a throat
but your machine gives it a voice of clicking teeth
(grinding)
(breathing)
memory is a physical residue
a layer of soot on the optic nerve
you frame the woman by the window
but you miss the microscopic war in her marrow
the cells are dying to make room for the image
a sacrificial geometry
(trade the meat for the light)
project the ghosts onto the white wall
let them dance in the dust motes
the past is a fabricated skin
we wear it to keep the winter out
feed the reel
turn the handle
(again)
(again)
(again)
the image remains
the body departs
(again)
(the light)
(again)
(the bone)
(again)
(the machine)