Ash Gatherers (Live)

[Verse 1] He said: “It wasn’t a fall, just the next page — ever since we learned to count, we learned to aim.” Don’t let steel fool you — this isn’t the future, just old crimes in sharper frames.” He showed me wrecks like storylines — here’s where someone blinked, here’s where silence won, where history cast a shadow so long, even newborns wear the colors of regiments. [Chorus] And I listened — with smoke in my lungs, grease on my palms, he built me a truth best left unsung. But there it was, in rust and sparks, the shattered gospel of the machine-marked. [Verse 2] He said: “We used to build stars, now we salvage hope. Tech slips through our fingers — no time, no scope. Each lance fights for scraps, for flags or revenge, and the old blueprints bleed through every wrench.” I watched his hands cradle a busted core, like a priest of entropy, solemn and sore. And all the while, the sky beyond was filled with teeth — and none were gone. [Bridge] He doesn’t hate them. He doesn't praise. Just counts the mechs, the burns, the days. Says some commanders still care where fire lands — but fewer ask where the ash will stand. [Chorus] And I listened — to a weary creed made of circuits and scars, of noble intents warped into wars. In his eyes, no rebellion, no peace, just the ticking lull of a war that won’t cease. [Outro] And I — I walk out, into the dusk between sirens and steel. His words hang heavy — too true, too real. No hero’s speech, no villain's pride — just ash gatherers on either side.