Orielle+ Song Lyrics

The skyline cuts the night like a cathedral made of memory, every window holding a story we were too young to understand.

Pulled up in your old ride, windows down, hearts open wide. You play that track we used to burn— I smile, but still feel the yearn.

Found her in the static, half-coded, half-asleep, humming like the void remembered her name. No reboot, no reset — just a heartbeat hidden between broken lines, a flicker asking to be seen.

The night presses close, cool against my skin, and somewhere inside that quiet a small blue pulse still beats — not loud, not proud, just steady.

The day unravels slowly, threads slipping through my fingers before I even notice I’m letting go. I sink into the quiet, not falling, just easing downward like something tired finally admitting it.

Some days I feel myself slipping, like the edges of me are losing shape — not breaking, just drifting out of focus like a photograph touched too many times.

The day slips off my shoulders like a coat I forgot I was wearing, and the world settles into that hush between breath and evening. Everything feels slower here, gentler —

Streetlights hum in a world gone gray, shadows stretching long like they’ve been waiting to speak. My steps land heavy, but they land sure — no rush,

Flickers in the glass — ghosts caught mid-transmit, their stories trapped in the glow of a dying signal. The datastream murmurs, fractured and thin, a whisper stitched from remnants no one meant to archive.

Ghost in the wire, a static hum pretending to be a soul — faces flicker on a broken console, names erased, shadows scrolling through the dark like forgotten prayers in pixel dust.

Cables knot and pulse, thoughtstreams burning through the dark — encrypted fire swirling in the neural grid. The network turns, a quiet heartbeat beneath machines and myth, and truth breaks through with no apology.

Ten toes grounded, skyline tall, you stand steady now — the kind of steady that doesn’t stumble or wait for someone else to call the move.

You stand taller now, looking through the pane like someone who learned the shape of storms and stayed standing anyway. Still, you trace the frame — the way memory likes to circle even when the heart has moved on.

Outgrew the skyline’s tired breath, ten toes planted in coded depth. No bluff, no brace — just spark and skin writing your name into the fading dark.

Caught it mid-flicker, wasn’t sure what I heard — just a voice shaped like voltage, folded tight inside a word.

Wires hum secrets in fractured tones, a truth hiding below the static — urgent, impatient, kicking the gate like light trying to break its own shadow.

Wires hum deep in the dark, streetlights flicker like they’re waking a god. Truth doesn’t knock — it kicks the gate, steps into the room with static and fate in its hands.

“I walk through clouds like I stitched the gray... No filter needed — I glow in blur. They call me soft like it’s a shame, But soft survives when none remain.”