[Intro]
[Pipe organ states the three-note ON AIR motif while relay clicks mark the pulse before the guitars enter.]

[Verse 1]
Forty floors of polished glass,
Every badge must scan and pass.
Cables coil across the floor,
Blackened vines beneath the door.
Overhead, the red lamp’s eye
Wakes whenever we must lie.
At the desk, my notes remain,
Names in ink and dates in rain.

[Pre-Chorus]
The producer counts from five,
Asks which facts may stay alive.
Three—remove the donor’s name.
Two—replace the word with “claim.”

[Chorus]
The cowed screen bows where the red eye burns,
It trades the fact for the favor it earns.
A tower of glass with a lock on the word,
A nation goes deaf when the truth goes unheard.
But I keep one page they forgot to clean,
And I swear it will speak through the cowed screen.

[Verse 2]
Behind the glass, the lawyers lean,
Silver ties and faces clean.
Every sentence takes the stand,
Every comma needs their hand.
Outside, sirens cross the square,
Smoke is staining evening air.
Inside, someone dims the feed,
Calls the burning “disagreed.”

[Pre-Chorus]
The anchor waits beneath the light,
Powdered pale and collar tight.
He knows the footage, knows the cost,
Knows exactly what was lost.

[Chorus]
The cowed screen bows where the red eye burns,
It trades the fact for the favor it earns.
A tower of glass with a lock on the word,
A nation goes deaf when the truth goes unheard.
But I keep one page they forgot to clean,
And I swear it will speak through the cowed screen.

[Instrumental]
[Seven-string guitars repeat the descending ON AIR motif while cellos answer in rising counterpoint and toms imitate a countdown.]

[Bridge]
I learned this trade from battered shoes,
Cold courthouse steps and midnight news.
A source would speak, a page would turn,
A public had the right to learn.
Now truth is weighed against a deal,
And fear decides what counts as real.

[Buildup]
One page beneath my jacket seam,
One name deleted from the screen.
One voice can crack a marble hall,
One honest word can shame them all.

[Final Chorus]
The cowed screen bows, but the red eye shakes,
A tower may bend when a witness wakes.
Unlock every word that the lawyers blurred,
Let the nation hear what it should have heard.
I kept one page they forgot to clean,
Now the page keeps watch on the cowed screen.

[Outro]
The countdown ends, the theme begins,
The camera smiles, the silence wins.
I open my book beneath its beam—
And write one line against the screen.