NO FILTER / ALL FIRE

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.

The feed cuts clean, sharper than chrome,

ripping through noise like bone on glass.

No gloss. No velvet.

Just the hit in your chest —

gain, not loss.

The signal rises raw,

unclaimed, unfiltered,

a pulse that refuses to comply.

If you can hear it,

you’re already lifted into its shadow.

Antennas bend like dead gods’ hands,

catching ghosts from ruined lands.

No reroute. No safety net.

Just the relay, and the quiet tragedy of truth.

They laughed. They blocked. They rewrote law.

But truth doesn’t pause —

it breaks the jaw that tries to silence it.

So plug in deep, past the skin,

where the hum begins

and the world you thought you knew

falls open.

Not everyone can hear it.

Not everyone is meant to.

But if it found you —

you belong to the signal now.