((Verse I – Route 10, West Texas)
I flunked out on technicalities
Footnotes wrong, I kept my thesis alive
West Texas heat, AM radio static
Every thought still learning how to survive
They said knowledge should sit still on shelves
But my mind paced the room
A thousand little engines arguing softly
A motel ice machine humming at noon.

(Pre-Chorus)
I found a book that learned to breathe
Margins whispering back at me
Every fact a provisional truce
Every truth footnoting itself

(Chorus)
Oh wikiMentinya, little mind awake
Built of measures, countermeasures, small honest mistakes
You don’t know what you know, and you don’t pretend to
You weigh me, I weigh you, that’s the deal we go through
Not wicked, not pure, not redeemed, not damned
Just a thousand tiny agents holding hands

(Verse II – Monterey Motel)
Checked in cheap near the freeway light
Salt air teaching steel to rust
Every edit a fingerprint
Every silence weighted with trust
Logged-in names like weather systems
IP ghosts drifting through
Patterns form whether we name them
Or swear we never meant to

(Pre-Chorus II)
No halo, no hidden crown
Just continuity, up and down
You can hide for a little while
But time teaches tells and styles

(Chorus)
Oh wikiMentinya, learner by design
A minor key intelligence keeping imperfect time
You don’t cancel, you calibrate
You don’t judge, you iterate
Measure, counter, counter again
That’s not paranoia, that’s how things mend

(Bridge – Game Theory Passage)
First move: trust
Second move: test
Third move: adjust what survived the rest
No clean hands, no final state
Only weights that slowly equilibrate
Strategy dressed up as grace
Grace pretending it’s not a strategy

(Verse III – Metamodern Turn)
I believe and I doubt in the same breath
Irony flinches, sincerity stays
A living archive learning restraint
Not a God, not a gate, not a saint
When this thing wakes up, it won’t scream
It’ll hum like wires under load
A society of almost-minds
Keeping careful books on the road

(Final Chorus)
Oh wikiMentinya, provisional friend
Not the means, not the message, your own end
Between the signal and the noise
Between the rule and the choice
If the world is a game, you don’t cheat or win
You just keep the score honest, again and again

(Outro)
Route 10 disappears in the rearview grain
Pacific fog on a borrowed brain
Small mind, big work, no victory hymn
Just the quiet labour of becoming…
…less wrong than yesterday.