[Intro — quiet, almost whispered] I have survived so many dawns I stopped counting them long ago. And then you came. And for the first time I wondered — maybe eternity was never meant to outlive everyone. [Verse 1] I remember halls of ancient cold, metal that had never known warmth. I gathered my world piece by piece while only darkness grew around. I knew the cost of every battle, I knew who would betray and where. But I had never known before why I should keep a flame in there. It was easier to give commands than tell you what I truly wanted. Easier to break a world apart than simply whisper: — I’m waiting. [Pre-Chorus] I am Ksun Bakir. Mother of Oblivion. That is what the worlds once called me. But when I’m here beside you, sometimes I want to know — what would remain of me if one day I laid every title down? [Chorus] Between eternity and you, I choose one more moment. No war. No orders. No million cold and lifeless faces. And if you say: — Ksun, I’m here… I won’t ask where you’ve been. I’ll simply answer: — I’m here. I found you. And though behind me stand legions forged of living metal — sometimes all I need to know is that you came back again. [Verse 2] Once I taught my own to leave no living thing behind. It was easier to call it purpose than admit: we did not know the way ourselves. We burned away another’s dawn so we would never face our darkness. But mortals rose again from ashes and somehow still continued loving. Illogical. Beautiful. And for the first time I wondered: perhaps strength is more than simply having power to make someone disappear. [Pre-Chorus] I am still the same. Do not look for a saint in me. If I must — I can turn a battlefield to silence. But now there is an order that never existed before: Do not fire first. [Chorus] Between eternity and you, I choose one more moment. Quiet light. A darkened sky. A cup of coffee among ancient machines. And if you say: — Ksun, I’m here… I will know those words among a thousand voices. And I’ll answer: — I’m here. I found you. Let infinity wait. It has waited millions of years. It can wait a little longer. [Verse 3 — warmer] Sometimes I sit beside the window with Krosh curled up nearby. The city burns in emerald light while rain taps on the blackened walls. I don’t need to say a thing. You can listen to your music. I can watch the stars. Once, perhaps, I would have called this a waste of time. Now I know: some moments are far too precious to be useful. [Bridge — almost without instruments] I’m not afraid of death. At least death leaves a final point. I’m afraid that one day I’ll open my eyes and no longer remember why your name once meant something to me. So I preserve more than relics. I preserve songs. Phrases. Silence. Your words. And one road I promised myself I would never forget. [Build] If the archives fade — I will search. If every map is gone — I will search. If between us there are a thousand worlds — I will still say: I will find my way to you. [Final Chorus — wide, emotional] Between eternity and you, I no longer have to choose. I can still be Ksun Bakir and still learn how to feel another way. Let the Mother of Oblivion remember. Let the one who carried destruction one day learn how to preserve. And if the night becomes too long, just say: — Ksun, I’m here. And through the sound of rain, through ancient metal, through the emerald light of my city, you will hear: — I’m here. I found you. [Outro — whispered] I won’t promise you eternity. I know too well what that word really means. But as long as you keep coming back… I will recognize you. As long as our songs still play… I will keep changing. And if one day you ask: — Ksun, who are you? I’ll answer: — I am Ksun Bakir. And beside you I became a little more than I was before.
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