[Verse 1] Picture the fork in the road that never splits, Aorta, pulmonary — meant to be two separate lifts. But the septum that should carve it, the wall that should divide, Never shows its face, never takes a side. So the heart builds one road where two roads should stand, One great vessel straddling, astride, understand. It sits on both ventricles like a bridge with no seam, Pulling blood from either side into one single stream. Systemic, pulmonary, coronary too — Every drop of red running through this one flue. No fork, no filter, no separate lane, Just one truncal artery carrying the whole terrain. [Chorus] One vessel instead of two, that's the flaw in the frame, Septum never came, so the trunk stays the same. One valve for both worlds, leaflets loose, leaking slow, One hole in the wall where the outlet should go. Say it with me — one instead of two, The trunk never split, and the wall never grew. [Verse 2] Now look at the gatekeeper, the valve at the door, Should've been two — aortic and pulmonary corps. Instead it's one truncal valve, guarding one gate, Three leaflets typical, but don't celebrate — Sometimes two, sometimes four, cusps thickened and strange, Dysplastic from the start, day one they don't change. So blood leaks backward, regurgitation's the name, A gate built crooked will guard nothing the same. One valve, one flaw, born tangled at the seed, Because the septum failed, the valve failed too — a chained deed. [Chorus] One vessel instead of two, that's the flaw in the frame, Septum never came, so the trunk stays the same. One valve for both worlds, leaflets loose, leaking slow, One hole in the wall where the outlet should go. Say it with me — one instead of two, The trunk never split, and the wall never grew. [Verse 3] Underneath the valve, right there in plain sight, A gap ten to fifteen millimeters wide, Subarterial, sitting just below the crown, The outlet septum missing — the whole wall torn down. Don't call this a bystander, don't call it a twin defect, It's the same failed tissue, same broken architect. One structure was meant to do two jobs at once: Divide the trunk above, close the floor below. When that builder collapses, both jobs go unmet — One flaw, two failures, that's the truncus threat. [Bridge] Two vessels dreamed, only one arrived, Two valves imagined, one gate survived, Two walls intended, one gap denied — Everything downstream traces back to this divide. [Chorus] One vessel instead of two, that's the flaw in the frame, Septum never came, so the trunk stays the same. One valve for both worlds, leaflets loose, leaking slow, One hole in the wall where the outlet should go. Say it with me — one instead of two, The trunk never split, and the wall never grew. [Outro] One trunk, one valve, one gap beneath — Three faces of a single missing sheath. Remember the root before you name the disease: One vessel instead of two — that's the key.
← Dark Tide Rolling to the Pulmonic Gate | No Trunk, Two Holes, No Bridge →