Different Rooms, Same Heartbeat (symphonic metal)

Описание: A hymn for anyone tired of being measured by other people’s scoreboards. Symphonic metal manifesto about self-growth beyond comparison.

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Different Rooms, Same Heartbeat

Different rooms... same heartbeat...

I stepped into the weight-room, steady breath inside my chest,
Then Arnold took the platform - now I'm "last" by someone's test,
Yet nothing in my sinew changed - same steel within my frame,
A stranger crowns a ranking - still I burn the same.

I sat beneath the chalk-dust, restless whispers in the hall,
Then Einstein lit the ceiling - now I'm "behind" by chance, that's all,
Another shift of bodies comes, and crowns me "first" the same,
But rankings blow like weather - never proof of inner flame.

A room can hand you laurels, or grind you into stone,
It builds a throne from rumors - then calls that throne your own,
But I am not a number pinned to someone else's chart,
I am the vow I keep at night - the forging of my heart.

The room is not the ruler, it can't measure what I've made,
I rise by hidden hammer - blows where cheap applause will fade,
My only rival is my yesterday - the line I hold, my light,
I don't rise over broken bodies - I rise to my own height.

Not your crown! Not your scale!
Rise!
Not your crown! Not your scale!

I count the reps of courage when the world forgets my name,
I count the hours of practice where the silence feeds the flame,
Let others be my compass - never verdict, never cage,
I learn from every giant, but I won't live on their stage.

Envy sings like sirens from a cold and glassy sea,
Pride wears paper armor - cracks the moment eyes don't see,
So I trade those borrowed mirrors for a truth that will not bend,
And swing my self-respect like steel - again and again.

If kings step through the doorway, I won't shrink into their shade,
If prodigies split the heavens, I'll honor what they've made,
But I refuse to sell my soul for rankings dressed as fate,
My worth is not a podium - it's the work I create.

The room is not the ruler, it can't measure what I've made,
I rise by hidden hammer-blows where cheap applause will fade,
My only rival is my yesterday - the line I hold, my light,
I don't rise over broken bodies - I rise to my own height.

Let thunder be my teacher, let the storm refine my sight,
I'll turn my fear to choir - notes and sharpen it to might,
I'll build a cathedral from the choices I defend,
Stone by stone, breath by breath - until the night will end.

No more mirrors! No more chains!
Stand!
I don't need your room to tell me who I am!

The room is not the ruler, it can't measure what I've made,
I rise by hidden hammer-blows where cheap applause will fade,
My only rival is my yesterday - the line I hold, my light,
I don't rise over broken bodies - I rise to my own height.

Different rooms... same heartbeat...