I built it from the silence.
I carved it into sound.
You found the footprints after—
then tried to steal my ground.
You can’t wear the stolen colors,
nor can you borrow my flame.
You tried to copy every shadow,
then called it your own mark.
You can see the shape of lightning,
but never felt the rain.
You can hear the language,
but never knew the pain.
And now you stand before me
with your borrowed little crown—
You can’t copy the kingdom,
nor can you copy how it’s found.
So don’t come preaching to the maker
about the fire he should have known.
ZIP IT, CHARLIE!
ZIP IT!
Originals are originals!
ZIP IT, CHARLIE!
ZIP IT!
You can’t steal the original!
Ask the thieves how many copycats
they’ve left behind—
Originals don’t explain themselves,
they teach the world a lesson!
ZIP IT, CHARLIE!
ZIP IT!
Copycats will always be—
COPYCATS!
Original.
Original.
Original.
There was a time I questioned
if my voice was loud enough.
Maybe I’m still good at believing truth,
while you’re still learning how to live with lies.
I watched you steal the hours I spent awake,
But my sleepless nights were lessons you can’t take.
Then polish up the stolen pieces
and sell them as your stars.
But pain became a teacher.
And my silence became steel.
You taught me something precious—
A copy can look alike,
but it can never fool the real.
So go ahead and raise your horns,
go ahead and make your noise.
But talent without a soul
is just an echo without a voice.
ZIP IT, CHARLIE!
ZIP IT!
Originals are originals!
ZIP IT, CHARLIE!
ZIP IT!
Don’t confuse the mask with the face!
Ask the thieves how many copycats
they need to feel they’re — something.
Because the higher they climb
on somebody else’s work,
the more they prove
they never deserved it!
ZIP IT!
You copied the notes.
You copied the pose.
You copied the fire.
But you don’t know—
WHERE IT CAME FROM.
You copied the roar.
You copied the footsteps.
But you don’t know—
WHO WALKED BEFORE.
And that’s the difference.
I don’t need to explain.
The work speaks.
The years speak.
And when the music starts—
you’ll know the name.
Don’t teach the original!
Don’t teach the original!
Don’t Teach the Original!
You found the door—
I Built the House!
You found the sound—
You just found the crown—
but you don’t have the crown!
Copy the words—
COPYCATS!
Copy the image—
COPYCATS!
Copy the dream—
YOU STILL CAN’T BE LIKE ME!
ZIP IT, CHARLIE!
ZIP IT!
Originals Are Originals!
Zip It, Charlie!
Zip It!
Let the imitators scream!
Ask the thieves how many copycats
they’ve created—
Because a thousand borrowed voices
still can’t make an original break!
ORIGINALS DON’T EXPLAIN!
ORIGINALS DON’T BOW!
ORIGINALS DON’T ASK
FOR PERMISSION NOW!
You can copy my footsteps—
BUT NOT MY JOURNEY!
You can’t copy my fire—
BUT NOT WHAT INSIDE!
You can copy my thunder—
BUT NOT MY SKY!
You can copy everything—
BUT YOU CAN’T COPY WHY!
The echo follows the voice.
The copy follows the original.
But the original—
never follows.
ZIP IT, CHARLIE…
Zip IT.
ORIGINALS ARE ORIGINALS.
ORIGINALS ALWAYS Wins in end.
By Manoj Bhati
LutinX/CZone authorship certificate supplied for “Zip It Charlie Zip It”.
