[Lyrics] In labs of steel, where sun is but a dream, And ocean's scent, a long-forgotten theme, A creature stirred, with circuits in his soul, A gull named Zeus, who'd make the planet whole. No salty cliffs had known his feathered form, But sterile halls, and manufactured storm. His eyes were lenses, sharp and crystal clear, To quell the doubts and banish every fear. His wings were woven with a silver thread, A living weapon, from a needle's head. The world above, in blissful ignorance, Pursued its fleeting, ordinary dance, Until the day the skies began to bleed, A crimson warning of a coming need. A rogue device, from some forgotten war, Awoke to settle an ancient, bitter score. Its target set, a pulse to crack the core, And silence life forever, evermore. The generals watched, their faces pale with dread, Their satellites and missiles, cold and dead. The final hour, a shadow drawing near, The world held captive by a grip of fear. Then Doctor Thorne, with haunted, weary eyes, Turned to the cage, beneath the humming skies Of his deep lab, a last and desperate hope, Beyond the range of human skill and scope. He keyed the lock, the door swung open wide, "Go, Zeus," he whispered, "there's nowhere left to hide." A flash of white, a purpose-driven cry, Zeus launched himself into the threatened sky. He flew as if the very winds obeyed, A silver comet, unafraid. Past silent cities, over darkened seas, He felt the planet's trembling, dire disease. He saw the menace, a spider in the night, That pulsed with death, a terrifying light. The air grew thin, the cold began to bite, But Zeus flew onward, with all his lab-born might. He saw the seam, a flaw within the shell, The single point to break the coming hell. With wings tucked tight, a living, feathered spear, He dove right through the atmosphere of fear. He struck the panel, with a piercing shriek, A final, valiant, and triumphant beak. A flash of light, a soundless, angry pop, The doomsday pulse was brought to a dead stop. The crimson faded from the morning air, The world was saved, but no one knew he's there. His mission done, his body burned and sore, He fell towards waves that he had never seen before. A silent hero, falling from the blue, His sacrifice known only to the few. But fishermen, who cast their nets at dawn, Now tell a tale of how the threat was drawn Away by wings of purest, whitest light, A guardian angel in the darkest night. And in the cry of every soaring gull, Resounds the legend of a hero's pull.
