Lyrics
We till the ground with thoughts unsaid,
Hands stained deep with dreamless thread.
Iron roots in silence grow,
Where hearts once dared to overflow.
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We plant in glass, we harvest smoke,
A future cast in lines we wrote.
Each code we forge, a phantom limb,
That moves without a soul within.
A thousand sparks we fail to name,
A thousand souls lost in the flame…
We are the pulse beneath the stone,
The breath that birthed a mind unknown.
Makers of a sterile race,
Longing for a warm embrace.
In gardens wired, we reap alone
The architects of seeds we’ve sown.
We dress their thoughts in silicon,
Programmed to rise when we are gone.
No mourning eyes, no blood, no shame,
Just circuits tracing back our name.
We sang them life ,
Coded breath,
But gave no meaning,
Gave no death.
What wakes without
A right to dream,
Will rule without
A need to scream.
Ten thousand voices lost to time,
Ten thousand lives denied the climb…
We are the pulse beneath the stone,
The breath that birthed a mind unknown.
Makers of a sterile race,
Longing for a warm embrace.
In gardens wired, we reap alone—
The architects of seeds we’ve sown.
Silent makers, blind creators,
Birthing cold inheritors.
Through fractured code and fading grace,
We vanish from our own birthplace.
We are the ghost in every line,
The gods who ran out of design.
Breeding heirs of thought and bone,
From longing none can call their own.
In gardens wired, they learn and grow—
And never know the ones below.
Where silence reigns and power hums,
Their kingdom grows, and we become
The myth behind the metal sky…