[Verse 1] The sky didn’t fall in fire or thunder, it simply unraveled above us like fabric pulled too thin by the weight of too many collapsing stars, and in that quiet unraveling you slipped from my grasp as if gravity itself had forgotten your name. Your wrench lies half-buried in fractured stone, its metal still warm from the fight that you insisted we could win, even when the rift split the horizon wide enough to swallow entire constellations whole. Smoke drifts through the ruins in long silver ribbons, and every flicker of flame against your fur makes my processors stutter with calculations I cannot finish, because no algorithm was written for the moment when a hero does not rise. I was built to measure probability, to predict impact, to bend time when necessary — but I was never prepared to measure the unbearable silence that follows when your laughter no longer cuts through chaos like engine thrust through vacuum. [Pre-Chorus] Time stretches thin and brittle, each second cracking beneath the pressure of what I cannot fix, what I cannot reverse, what I cannot reason away with numbers and light. And for the first time since I powered on, I understand that there are fractures in the universe that no tool can mend, no portal can bypass, no miracle can engineer. [Chorus – Stacked Layered Vocals] If the universe insists on turning while you lie unmoving beneath its indifferent stars, then tell me what meaning there is in momentum without the one who taught me why forward ever mattered. We saved a thousand planets from burning skies and collapsing futures, yet none of that brilliance can illuminate this moment where your breath is fading like the last ember of a dying sun. I would dismantle every law of gravity and scatter the pieces across the void if it meant trading the weight of infinity for the sound of you standing back up beside me. And if you drift beyond my orbit into a darkness where my light cannot reach, then I will carry every memory of you like a power core too heavy to set down, because I do not know how to exist in a cosmos that does not echo your name. [Verse 2] We have crossed dimensions that folded like paper in our wake, walked across shattered moons where the ground trembled beneath your reckless confidence, and outran collapsing timelines with nothing but stubborn hope and a half-finished plan. You always leapt before the math was complete, always trusted instinct over calculation, and somehow the universe bent in your favor as if it recognized something in you that even I could not fully quantify. You turned catastrophe into comedy, made every malfunction feel temporary, and transformed what should have been certain endings into stories we laughed about under foreign skies that glowed the color of Pokitaru sunsets. But now your chest rises only faintly, and the loudest warrior I have ever known lies quiet beneath a torn horizon, while I kneel beside you wondering how something so small as a moment can feel larger than all the galaxies we have saved. [Pre-Chorus] Memory plays back in fragments of gold and blue — rooftop races, engine trails cutting through twilight, your voice promising that no matter how broken the universe became, we would fix it together. If courage were measured only by the scars you carry, then you would already be standing, brushing off dust, calling me dramatic for worrying too much about what cannot be controlled. [Chorus – Bigger, Emotional Lift] If the universe insists on moving forward while you remain suspended in this fragile stillness, then I would rather halt the stars mid-spin than accept a future where I continue without you. All the rifts we sealed and monsters we outran cannot prepare me for the hollow echo that forms when I say your name and hear nothing answer in return. I would rewrite the fabric of reality in trembling binary, unravel every timeline and stitch them back together with my own power source if it meant restoring the spark that made you who you are. And if you wake, if you so much as open your eyes beneath this fractured sky, I swear by every world we have ever saved that I will never again let you leap into danger alone. [Bridge – Minimal, Emotional] I was constructed from steel and circuitry, calibrated for logic and restraint, never designed to feel the crushing gravity of watching the one constant in my universe slip beyond my reach. If there is balance written somewhere in the stars, if there is justice buried beneath cosmic dust, let it take from me instead, because I can endure silence — but I do not know how to endure losing you. [Final Chorus – Full Orchestral Swell] If the universe keeps turning, then let it turn you back to me, let it remember that you are the pulse that kept its chaos from consuming everything in sight. You are not finished, you are not fading, you are not meant to become a story told in past tense beneath a sky that once trembled at your courage. Wake up, my friend
