Steel bones creak in the dusk of time, Turning twilight into grime. Gears grind slow, corroded fate, Fueled by stars that came too late. No more dawn, no second spark— Just engines humming in the dark. One last system still alive, Built to burn what can’t survive. Eventide engine, turning slow, Running on the afterglow. Rust and ash in every gear, Crushing hope and coughing fear. It churns, it screams, it will not die— Grinding down the empty sky. Bolts of black and wires of red, Circuits stitched with stellar dead. It doesn't know what mercy means— It eats the bones of dying dreams. Each revolution costs a sun, Each motion means another’s done. But it keeps going—metal creed— A dying god that still must feed. Spit fire, bleed dust, Devour the silence, grind the rust. No off switch, no command— Only the law of the last machine standing. Eventide engine, final hum, Eating echoes one by one. The dusk it breathes becomes our song, A dirge that drones forever long. No mercy here, no grand design— Just steel that spins 'til end of time. Tick... Clank... Fade... Done.
