(A dark, orchestral rock ballad. Haunting, powerful, cinematic.) [Intro] (Ethereal synths, brooding guitar sustain, distant choral whispers. A low, pulsing rhythm builds.) (Soft, ghostly vocals—almost spoken.) The city stands, yet it is not seen… The voices called, but none believed… The silence came, a weighted hand… A hush like a tomb, an unspoken will. [Verse 1] (Melancholic guitar arpeggios, deep bass, pulsing drums.) I walked through the streets where no echoes remain, Footsteps swallowed by dust and disdain. No ruins, no ruin—just time standing still, A hush like a tomb, an unspoken will. (Drums enter. Guitar and synth textures swell.) You ask where they went, but the truth is unclear, Not vanished, not broken, just pulled from the sphere. No ruins, no ruin—just time standing still, A hush like a tomb, an unspoken will. (Instrumental surge into chorus.) [Chorus] (Powerful, heavy guitars, soaring strings, dramatic rhythm shifts.) I remember, I remember— But memory alone is a ghost without form. I speak, I speak, But silence itself has reshaped the storm. If the world has no voice, does it matter at all? If no one recalls, does it vanish or fall? (Brief silence, lingering ambient echoes.) [Bridge] (Slower tempo, heavy atmosphere, mournful strings, building intensity.) (Soft, half-sung.) (Fragmented, yearning melody over swelling tension.) I walked through the void where the lost ones decay, Bound in the silence, fading away… Not vanished, not broken—just waiting in chains, A whisper away from calling your name… (The energy begins to rise. Percussion sharpens, instruments layer.) [Verse 2] (Stronger rhythm, swelling instrumentation, surging intensity.) You stand in the shadow where no echoes remain, Breath held tight at the edge of the frame. But listen—there’s something still pulling you near, The memory stirs, the lost reappear… (Build-up to the final chorus, instruments roaring.) [Repeat Chorus] (Bigger, heavier. Vocals raw, full of urgency.) I remember, I remember— But memory alone is a ghost without form. I speak, I speak, But silence itself has reshaped the storm. If the world has no voice, does it matter at all? (Final drop—eerie calm, lone notes echo in the emptiness.) [Outro] (Sparse piano, faint echoes of previous melodies. Choral vocals fading into silence.) Then perhaps the world… is not lost at all.