Infinite Recursion Theory

(Verse 1) When I was eight, I built a world with no beginning, no outside. Layers folding into layers, and I walked through them from inside. Every step revealed another, every boundary slipped away. I was small, but the world was endless, and it grew with every day. (Pre‑Chorus 1) And the farther in I wandered, the more the edges came undone. Every circle held another, every shadow held a sun. (Chorus) I was walking through forever, in a world that had no end. Every layer held another, every turn became a bend. I was tiny in the middle, but the space belonged to me. In the worlds I dreamed my way through, I could wander endlessly. (Verse 2) Deeper in, the paths grew stranger, spirals turning into doors. Every shape became a hallway, every floor revealed more floors. I kept walking through the patterns, never reaching where they end— just a world that kept unfolding, turning corners into bends. (Pre‑Chorus 2) And the deeper that I drifted, the more the patterns seemed to breathe. Every echo held a meaning, every thread began to weave. (Chorus 2) I was walking through forever, in a world that had no end. Every layer held another, every turn became a bend. I was tiny in the middle, but the space kept holding me. In the worlds I dreamed my way through, I could wander endlessly. (Bridge) Now I’m older, but I feel it— that old world still lives in me. All the layers I imagined shaped the way I learned to see. There was comfort in the endless, in a place that let me roam. I was walking through the endless, and somehow it felt like home. (Outro) And though the world keeps getting louder, I still find that place inside. All the layers I once wandered still unfold when I close my eyes. There’s a quiet in the endless, where the child in me still goes— to the worlds I always dreamed of, in the space that only grows.