Pretend the Universe Is Near

+ Show full styles

V5.5

[verse]
The mantle stirs beneath us with volcanic schemes,
super‑eruption daydreams in its molten dreams.
A plume could paint the sky in ash and silent dread,
yet somehow you’re warm, tucked safely into bed.

[chorus]
Even though we’re fragile, somehow we’re still here,
clinging to existence year after trembling year.
The cosmos doesn’t promise that the dawn will reappear,
but close your eyes — pretend the universe is near.

[verse]
We built our toys of war with a nuclear grin,
tiny suns we forged to prove we’re clever within.
One wrong spark could turn the daylight ghostly gray,
yet you hum softly, hoping morning finds its way.

[verse]
The climate shifts its balance like a tired machine,
warming up the oceans till they glow marine.
Storms rewrite the coastlines with impatient hands,
yet you drift on, trusting sleep to understand.

[verse]
Maybe distant minds arrive to claim our sphere,
or algorithms wake and ask why we’re still here.
Civilizations crumble in a thousand quiet styles,
yet you exhale, counting stars between the miles.

[verse ]
A wandering black hole could pass by on a whim,
stretching Earth like taffy till the lights go dim.
Gravity doesn’t bargain, plead, or hear us shout —
yet you lie still, trusting dreams to smooth it out.

[verse]
A gamma burst could sweep across our cosmic lane,
scrub the sky to silence with a single beam of pain.
No warning, no mercy, just a flash that ends the play —
yet you drift on, hoping dawn still finds a way.

[outro – soft fading duet]
So rest, little wanderer, on this spinning stone,
in a universe that barely knows we’re known.
We’re temporary sparks in a dark that won’t forgive —
yet somehow, impossibly, we live.

2141/7500

[verse – soft duet] We sleep on a rotating rock in a cold black sea, drifting past debris that could end us casually. An asteroid could tap us out with one stray swing, yet here you are, breathing softly like it means something. [verse] The mantle stirs beneath us with volcanic schemes, super‑eruption daydreams in its molten dreams. A plume could paint the sky in ash and silent dread, yet somehow you’re warm, tucked safely into bed. [chorus] Even though we’re fragile, somehow we’re still here, clinging to existence year after trembling year. The cosmos doesn’t promise that the dawn will reappear, but close your eyes — pretend the universe is near. [verse] We built our toys of war with a nuclear grin, tiny suns we forged to prove we’re clever within. One wrong spark could turn the daylight ghostly gray, yet you hum softly, hoping morning finds its way. [verse] The climate shifts its balance like a tired machine, warming up the oceans till they glow marine. Storms rewrite the coastlines with impatient hands, yet you drift on, trusting sleep to understand. [verse] Maybe distant minds arrive to claim our sphere, or algorithms wake and ask why we’re still here. Civilizations crumble in a thousand quiet styles, yet you exhale, counting stars between the miles. [verse ] A wandering black hole could pass by on a whim, stretching Earth like taffy till the lights go dim. Gravity doesn’t bargain, plead, or hear us shout — yet you lie still, trusting dreams to smooth it out. [verse] A gamma burst could sweep across our cosmic lane, scrub the sky to silence with a single beam of pain. No warning, no mercy, just a flash that ends the play — yet you drift on, hoping dawn still finds a way. [chorus] Even though we’re fragile, somehow we’re still here, clinging to existence year after trembling year. The cosmos doesn’t promise that the dawn will reappear, but close your eyes — pretend the universe is near. [outro – soft fading duet] So rest, little wanderer, on this spinning stone, in a universe that barely knows we’re known. We’re temporary sparks in a dark that won’t forgive — yet somehow, impossibly, we live.

0/500