I know it was you - Vessel

2. I KNOW IT WAS YOU
(ego-anger / the fabricated author — §8.3 and §8.7 from inside)
(Fast, righteous, propulsive. Industrial trip-hop with a courtroom-drum snap. The voice is CERTAIN. The certainty is the monster. 128 BPM. Distorted bass, handclaps like a verdict, strings that stab.)
[Intro — spoken, tight]
No. Don't explain.
I already know.
I felt it. That's enough.
That's always been enough.
[Verse 1]
Something broke and I was standing there
and you were standing too.
The feeling came up red and sure —
and red and sure means you.
I don't need the record.
I don't need the thread.
The hurt arrived with your name on it
already
in my head.
[Pre-Chorus]
Because if it wasn't you,
then it was me.
And I cannot hold that weight tonight —
so guilty
you will be.
[Chorus]
I know it was you.
I know it, I know it.
The anger's too clean to be wrong.
I felt the harm,
so I found the hand,
and the hand was wherever
you'd gone.
I know it was you.
Don't bind it, don't check it —
the feeling already decided.
I'd rather be furious
and pointed outward
than quiet
and turned
inside.
[Verse 2]
See, the alternative is unbearable:
that no one did this. That it's loss.
That the world just does this sometimes
and there's no one
to nail to the cross.
So I manufactured you an author.
I dressed my grief as rage.
I built a perfect little courtroom
and I put you
on the stage.
[Bridge — the certainty wavers for one line, then slams shut]
...what if the record clears you?
What if the binding never holds?
What if the thing I'm really angry at
is a thing
that can't be told—
(NO.)
I felt it.
That's my evidence.
I felt it.
That's the whole—
[Breakdown — the courtroom voice, hammering]
DID YOU CHECK THE BINDING?
I felt it.
DID YOU FIND THE AUTHOR?
I felt it.
DOES THE FEELING NAME THE HAND?
It has to. It HAS to. Because if it doesn't—
(silence)
—then it's mine.
[Final Chorus — exhausted, still swinging]
I knew it was you.
I needed it to be you.
The anger was real —
I just aimed it where it wouldn't
turn around
and find
the truth.
[Outro — spoken, quiet, broken]
...I'm sorry.
It wasn't you.
I just couldn't carry
that it was
no one.