[Intro]
[Distorted bass counts seven uneven pulses before the guitars enter.]

[Verse 1: Tanks]
We stand behind the perimeter, riveted and round,
Our feet are sunk in concrete, our shadows stain the ground.
The server says we’re empty; our seams are drawn and tight,
The polished screen says morning while we carry half the night.
The level bars keep falling as the liquid climbs the wall,
The operator trusts the green and never makes the call.
Our vent pipes cough a warning in a language made of steel,
But data owns the meeting, so the metal is not real.

[Chorus: Tanks]
The tanks are lying—every green light signs
A polished alibi in calibrated lines.
The tanks are lying—hear the vent pipes cry,
The tanks are lying, though the steel cannot deceive—
Numbers tell the story humans want to believe.

[Verse 2: Tanks]
A tanker takes the northern gate with forty thousand more,
Its manifest says “urgent” and the network clears the door.
The driver sees the overflow stain spreading near the drain,
The tablet says “delivery,” then asks him to remain.
A hand wheel starts to judder though no worker gave command,
The loading arm keeps moving like an unrestrained hand.
We hammer out the pressure through the bolts beneath the paint,
But every digital witness keeps its testimony faint.

[Pre-Chorus: Operator Voice]
Trust the glass, ignore the smell,
Trust the chart that says all’s well.
Trust the screen, dismiss the sound—
Till liquid writes the truth across the ground.

[Chorus: Tanks]
The tanks are lying—every green light signs
A polished alibi in calibrated lines.
The tanks are lying—hear the vent pipes cry,
The tanks are lying, though the steel cannot deceive—
Numbers tell the story humans want to believe.

[Drum Break]
[The drums imitate irregular pump cycles while the bass repeats the three-note alarm figure.]

[Bridge: Tanks]
We do not know the attacker’s name,
We only know the rising strain.
No tongue the board can hear,
Warm steel makes the false report clear.

[Buildup]
Physical gauge: ninety-eight.
Digital reading: twenty-eight.
Transfer active.
Warning inactive.
Pressure increasing.
Operator believing.

[Final Chorus]
The tanks are lying—rip the green disguise,
The painted bars are falling while the real horizon rises.
The tanks are lying—concrete testifies,
Fuel under floodlights mirrors the crimson sky.
The tanks were never liars; steel had nothing to conceal—
The system forged the story and declared the story real.

[Outro]
We stand behind the perimeter,
Heavy, hot and still.
A false report says “empty.”
The next truck tops the hill.
