a flickering screen in the dark of the room
waiting for flowers in the desert to bloom
i had a thousand stories locked in my chest
but no way to tell them, no place i could rest
the heavy machinery, the gates made of gold
kept the best of our history from ever being told.
but then came the leap, a spark in the night
a war room of dreamers who finally caught light
we learned how to whisper to the ghost in the code
we took back the narrative, we found a new road
oh, africa's breathing, the silence is gone
the machine is the canvas, and we are the dawn.
i remember the friction, the lines on the screen
trying to build out the things i had seen
but a leader said "hold on, you're not an audience now,
you are the director, let me show you how."
then my character looked up, and he opened his eyes
and the tears that i cried were a sweet, sweet surprise.
'cause we took the leap, a spark in the night
a war room of dreamers who finally caught light
we learned how to whisper to the ghost in the code
we took back the narrative, we found a new road
oh, africa's breathing, the silence is gone
the machine is the canvas, and we are the dawn.
no more waiting on someone to give us the stage
we generated the actors, we wrote our own page
from the neon-lit cities to the ancient red dirt
we took all the passion, the hope, and the hurt...
and we made it a masterpiece.
yeah, we made it our own.
the leap into greatness...
we're finally home.