Verse 1 Eight billion hearts beat under one sky, Dreaming of tomorrow while the years roll by. But somewhere behind a polished door, A handful decide what we’re living for. Pens become weapons, whispers become law, One signature can change what millions saw. How did the many surrender the wheel, While the few decide what’s fake and real? Pre-Chorus Tell me when did the scales tip over? When did the mountain rest on narrow shoulders? Chorus Why is the world’s demise… Or its prosperity… Balanced on the hands of so few? While billions wake beneath the same sunrise, Trying to make it through. If every voice is worth the same, Why do only echoes carry names? We’re all writing history too… So why is tomorrow decided by so few? Verse 2 Empires rise from ordinary men, Then ordinary people pay again. Power gathers like a river’s flow, Fed by every choice we never know. The crowd builds kingdoms brick by brick, Yet crowns are worn by only a pick. Is it fate, ambition, chance, or fear, That keeps the driver’s seat so near? Bridge Maybe every giant started small… Maybe every throne can someday fall. Maybe history waits for someone new, To remind the many what they can do. Final Chorus Why is the world’s demise… Or its prosperity… Balanced on the hands of so few? When hope belongs to everyone, Shouldn’t tomorrow belong there too? One spark can light a thousand flames, One voice can challenge ancient chains. The future’s never written through… Until the many remember they’re more than the few. Outro The story isn’t owned by kings. It lives inside the smallest things. The world may turn because of few… But it keeps on beating because of you.
