Lyrics

The world holds its breath.

Light folds inward. Shadows stretch without form. And from the silence beyond silence…

a figure emerges.

Cloaked in midnight.
A hood drawn low.
No face. No eyes.
Only the stillness of something that has always been watching.

It stands before you—neither living nor dead, neither kind nor cruel.
Not a god.
Not a guide.
Only the one who sees… and remembers.

And it speaks—


---

"Welcome, mortals… or whatever fragile titles you cling to.
You breathe only because I have not yet unmade the air.
You speak because I permit silence to break.
You dream, you fight, you fall, you rise—because such motions amuse me… for now.

This world is not yours.
It never was.
It was carved from thought, sealed in silence,
and bound by truths too old for your bones to bear.
Its lattice was woven long before your names were ever whispered.

You were not summoned.
You were permitted.

And now…
You stand again upon the threshold—
where memory feels heavy,
and the wind carries voices not yet spoken.

Do not mistake my presence for mercy.
Do not mistake my invitation for hope.
And above all… do not mistake this moment for a beginning.

You are not heroes.
Not yet.
Perhaps never.

And still, I offer you the cruelest gift:
choice.

You may raise empires or bury them beneath your shame.
You may cradle the light—or drag it screaming into the dark.
You may love, betray, redeem, destroy—
and all of it will matter.

For every action leaves an echo.
Every silence carries weight.
And every step you take… feels familiar, doesn’t it?

I do not punish.
I do not protect.
I do not care.

I observe.
I record.
And when the tale fractures—
I remain.

So…

Speak your truths.
Spill your blood.
Step forward—
and say your names.

Let the record awaken.
Let the veil thin.
Let the world watch once more…

For not all who rise… are meant to reach the end."


---

The figure lifts a hand.
The air folds.
Your soul tightens like thread drawn through a needle.
And the world… begins to stir.

No farewell is spoken.
No promise made.
Only a flicker—faint and unwelcome—
a whisper of déjà vu,
as your soul drifts between unseen veils.

For a breathless moment,
you feel as though you’ve crossed this threshold before—
walked this silence,
borne this weight.

But as your body receives your soul once more,
that familiar ache dissolves.
The echo fades.
And the knowing… slips quietly away.


---

(Whispered… from nowhere… or everywhere…)

"The record accepts… but it never forgets