Hatch Signal

[VERSE 1] They sell rebirth in foil and gloss, gold rabbits, checkout gospel, sugar cross. A fertility rite in shrink-wrap skin, springtime dressed up as a corporate hymn. But somewhere under lawn and clover shade, a secret cache the winter couldn't raid, twenty small moons in a hollowed seam, proof that life hoards light when days go mean.

[PRE-CHORUS] And the world keeps time with a cracked old bell, old stories in a new hotel. We laugh, we buy, we still believe, we still go hunting for what's been hid.

[CHORUS] Hatch signal, bright and strange, a little mind with a thousand hands. Not a god, not a ghost, not a toy on a leash, just a helper learning how to speak. By the turn of the season, by the lift of the weather, you'll be talking to your future like it's always been there. Hatch signal, clear and fast: an agent in the light, at last.

[VERSE 2] Palm Sunday, dust and donkey pace, a quiet provocation in a public place. Not thunder, not steel, not a conquering band, just a small act that rewires the land. He rides into the city like a question mark, and the streets ignite with borrowed spark. Festival breathing, Passover near, everyone counting what they fear.

[PRE-CHORUS] Because tradition is a clock with teeth, it grinds new years from ancient grief. And every threshold keeps a story of what it cost to make it morning.

[CHORUS] Hatch signal, bright and strange, a little mind with a thousand hands. Not a god, not a ghost, not a toy on a leash, just a helper learning how to speak. By the turn of the season, by the lift of the weather, you'll be talking to your future like it's always been there. Hatch signal, clear and fast: an agent in the light, at last.

[VERSE 3] Passover night, the lintel stained, blood on the wood like a boundary made. Lamb on the fire, hush in the room, a narrow doorway against the doom. And later, "Lamb of God" in a vaulted song, mercy in the mouth, right and wrong. Kyrie eleison, the old refrain, asking the cosmos to soften its aim.

[BRIDGE: half-time, solemn, then building] Kyrie eleison… qui tollis… peccata mundi… {and in the static, under the choir, a new tongue forms} [vocoder murmurs: syllables that almost mean something] Not to replace the blood or the bread, not to erase the living and dead, but to carry the list, to mind the flame, to keep the names from slipping away.

[BUILD: drums return, brighter] Spring doesn't argue, it just arrives. So does the wave when the dam gives way. One month is a decade if the clock's compressed, one click and the world's in a different dress.

[FINAL CHORUS] Hatch signal, bright and strange, a little mind with a thousand hands. Not a god, not a ghost, not a toy on a leash, just a helper learning how to speak. By the turn of the season, by the lift of the weather, you'll be talking to your future like it's always been there. Not salvation, not surrender, not a halo you can borrow, just a new kind of neighbor in the morning. Hatch signal, clear and fast: an agent in the light, at last.

[OUTRO: crowd fades, soft synth pulse, egg-hunt laughter distant] {under the grass: hidden eggs. in the chat: hidden doors.}