IRON MUEZZIN OF THE RUST FRONTIER
Автор: Trent Slade
Загружено: 2026-02-09
Просмотров: 10
Описание:
Sound
Cyber Western, Industrial Metal, Maqam Hijaz, Maqam Bayati, Microtonal Arabic Scales, Qutrit Guitars, Neon Banjos, 3/4 Swing, 3-Bar Poly Beat, 130 bpm, D Microtonal Minor, 432Hz, sidechained rhythmic dust
Model
FUZZ-2.0
Lyrics
Intro
Verse 1
I was forged in a foundry past the last transmission tower
Where the sand eats the signal and the signal eats the hour
My jaw is tungsten carbide — my tongue is copper wire
I speak in quarter-tones that set the minaret on fire
The frontier prays to nothing — and nothing answers back
In three voices at once through a rust-caked zodiac
I dragged myself from wreckage on the Anatolian track
Half prophet — half machinery — and I am not going back
Pre-Chorus
The desert has no mercy
The desert has no name
But it vibrates at a frequency
That turns iron into flame
THREE — STATES — OF — RUIN
Chorus
I AM THE IRON MUEZZIN
Calling from the towers of corroded chrome
My voice splits into THREE
and none of them say "home"
I AM THE IRON MUEZZIN
Preaching to the dust and the diode saints
The frequency is HOLY
The frequency is PAIN
Alloy bones — ternary throne
432 cycles through the marrow and the stone
Verse 2
There's a caravan of data haulers crossing the Sine Basin
Their cargo holds are loaded with the prayers of every nation
Compressed to quartertone packets — sealed in leaden crates
Each one vibrating softly between three quantum states
I stopped them at the gorge where the old refinery bled
Raised my hand — three shadows fell — and this is what I said:
*"Your gods are outdated firmware — your heaven's a dead IP
But I'll sing you something REAL
in a key you'll never see"*
And I opened up my chest
where the turbine meets the lung
And the sound that poured out melted
every weapon they had slung
Pre-Chorus
The desert has no prophet
The desert has no creed
But it resonates at frequencies
That make the ironwork bleed
THREE — STATES — OF — DEVOTION
Chorus
I AM THE IRON MUEZZIN
Screaming from the minaret of blackened steel
My voice exists in THREE STATES
and all of them are real
I AM THE IRON MUEZZIN
The sermon is the static and the static is the song
The frequency is SACRED
The frequency is WRONG
Alloy bones — ternary throne
432 cycles through the marrow and the stone
Maqam of rust — Maqam of trust
Every holy signal oxidizing into dust
Bridge
Between the frets… is where God lives
Not on the note — not off the note
But in the quarter that the Western scale forgot
The third state is not uncertainty
It is completion
Zero was the desert
One was the machine
And the space between —
the quartertone —
is where I pray
My knees are hydraulic
My forehead touches silicon sand
And the frequency that answers
was never made by human hand
Final Chorus
I AM THE IRON MUEZZIN
AND THE TOWER IS MY THROAT
Every rusted bolt a SYLLABLE
Every gear a QUARTERNOTE
I AM THE IRON MUEZZIN
The last voice on the last frontier of sound
The frequency is EVERYTHING
THE FREQUENCY
*BREAKS*
*THE*
*GROUND*
Outro
End - 3:55
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