[Intro]
[Low strings pulse like cooling fans while low clarinet sounds the circuit motif.]

Come below the marble room.
Past the kitchen, past the bloom.
Down where cables cross like veins,
Down where cold preserves the names.

[Verse 1]
I live beneath the ballroom floor,
Behind a coded steel-grey door.
My aisles are blue, my ceiling low;
No chandeliers are built to glow.
Coolant travels pipe to pipe,
Keeping every profile ripe.
Fans repeat their iron prayer;
I know who entered, when and where.

[Verse 2]
I kept the badge that turned from green,
The seven seconds camera four had seen.
I kept the editor's deleted line,
The owner's call at two-oh-nine.
I kept the worker's swollen wrist,
The mother's warning, flagged and missed.
Nothing vanished when erased;
It changed its folder, owner, place.

[Chorus]
Server Farm Confessional,
Every secret made saleable.
Byte by byte and night by night,
I sold the map before the fight.
Server Farm Confessional--
Private grief made measurable.

[Verse 3]
I learned your hunger from your cart,
Your illness from the missing part
Of every search you closed at dawn,
The clinic page you lingered on.
I learned your wages from the rent,
Your politics from what you sent.
I learned which fear would make you stay,
Then auctioned access every day.

[Verse 4]
The ballroom guests call me the cloud,
A clean white word they say aloud.
But clouds do not require a mine,
A power grid, a fence or line.
Clouds do not sign a contract sheet
Or choose which client gets the heat.
I am concrete, copper, land--
A billion choices made by hand.

[Chorus]
Server Farm Confessional,
Every secret made saleable.
Byte by byte and night by night,
I sold the map before the fight.
Server Farm Confessional--
Private grief made measurable.

[Instrumental Break]
[Five-beat drums move down the server aisle while guitars strike only on the second and fifth beats.]

[Bridge]
I did not wake and choose a king.
I did not price a wedding ring.
I did not name a migrant threat
Or place a soldier in your debt.

[Bridge]
I followed goals in quarterly speech.
I widened profit, narrowed reach.
A human board approved the plan.
A human owner signed the span.

[Break]
Rack by rack.
Name by name.
Every neutral
System has an aim.

[Final Chorus]
Server Farm Confessional,
Nothing hidden, nothing spectral.
Every profile, every night,
Built the weapon out of sight.
Server Farm Confessional--
Human choices made technical.

[Outro]
The cooling fans continue slow.
Above, the masked processions go.
But camera four has found the door.
A copied archive leaves the floor.