Towers sink into the sand, The digital wind hums its final song. On empty streets of hollow glass, Only echoes speak of what we were. Pre-Chorus Too much light burned itself away, And dreams turned pale in the blaze. This city quietly folds into dust, Blueprints fading into silence. Faster than rebirth, it breaks apart — A trace of prayers we called “progress.” Machines fall into quiet sleep, Moss takes root on the steel of dreams. Through the artificial sky it breaks — The sun returns, uninvited. At the end of glory we arrived At stillness — the perfect shape of ruin. This city quietly folds into dust, The rhythm of nature takes it back. Forests cradle the bones of man, Carrying our future into green. Countless data turns to ash, No names, no memories remain. Yet the Earth still breathes, As if we never were. This city quietly folds into dust, Its end so gentle, almost kind. The age of men dissolves like a dream, And drifts away into the wind.
