(Hook / Chorus) Civilizations rise like a sunspot flare, Burn bright in rhythm, then vanish in air. When the pulse grows wild and the circuits fail, The jungle rewrites the ancient tale. (Verse) Born from the spark of a geomagnetic kiss, A culture blooms in a cradle of mist. Temples rise like frozen volts of prayer, Then collapse when the sky no longer cares. Ash to ash, stone to plasma mist, The cycle resets in a solar twist. Each fall, a charge for the next to climb— Each ruin’s glyph, a pulse in time. (Bridge) Tectonic beats, they shift the script, Fertile fields turned monolith crypt. But life don’t end—it resonates, In myth, in song, in plasma gates. (Outro) We ain’t lost, just waiting our turn— To ride the arc, to rise and burn. So when the sky crackles its fatal chord, Will your temple hum or be ignored?
