Dead Channel Saint (feat. The Ice Cathedral)

Grand Channel, but still divine
They hear the sound, but not the soul
Mouths not, hearts full of holes
I say the truth, they file it wrong
Sing my name, forget the song
Who said that wasn't me
Who dreamed that, can't you see
I built a stone behind my teeth
And broadcast it beneath your speech
They twist me in their satellite
White noise wrapped in business speak
But I tattoo sparks inside my throat
And whisper gospel every week
Dead Channel Saint
Broadcasting pain in gold leaps slowly I glitch, I shine, I scream in cold
You'll feel me hum through every note
Dead Channel Saint
Say my name
Not your echo, not your shame
A beaming glitch, I rise in sparks
Truth flickers louder in the dark
At the dinner table, I blur and fade
They chew my words like paper plates
Workplace ghost
Wear my skin, pitch my ideas with someone else's grin
You're just distorted
I wrote my name in faulty tape
I play it backwards in my mind
It still sounds great
Dead Channel Saint
In static bloom, I won't crack
I'm more than whispers on delay
I'm prophecy they threw away
But saints don't die, they reappear
On frequencies the brave still hear
Dead Channel Saint
Broadcasting truth through stolen time
Still here, still clear
I am the voice behind your fear
Dead Channel, signing off