In the static-choked air of his neon tower
A screen-faced god counts the minutes and hours
He flickers in blue, a restless, bright ghost
Obsessed with the shadow he hates the most
He stitches his cables and sharpens his glare
Searching for signals that aren't even there
A crackle of vinyl, a laugh in the dark
The Radio Demon has left a new mark
While Alastor smiles with a mouth full of rot
Vox is the prisoner of every missed shot
He captures the silence, he records the breath
A digital stalker enamored with death
He craves the attention, the bite of the wit
To be the one light that the deer won’t admit
But the airwaves stay cold, archaic and grim
And Vox is just static—waiting for him
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 9:39 AM UTC
In the static-choked air of his neon tower
A screen-faced god counts the minutes and hours
He flickers in blue, a restless, bright ghost
Obsessed with the shadow he hates the most
He stitches his cables and sharpens his glare
Searching for signals that aren't even there
A crackle of vinyl, a laugh in the dark
The Radio Demon has left a new mark
While Alastor smiles with a mouth full of rot
Vox is the prisoner of every missed shot
He captures the silence, he records the breath
A digital stalker enamored with death
He craves the attention, the bite of the wit
To be the one light that the deer won’t admit
But the airwaves stay cold, archaic and grim
And Vox is just static—waiting for him
