Lyrics by Chris Gabriel
The past is not set
against the backdrop of raging time
and the illusion
of a forward journey.
The music of the verse
isn't written yet.
It waits—
for the last details.
The resistance
of the few
where there were many before.
The ages are dark
and cold
to the future.
The sky is bleak
and uninviting.
Not because there is no hope—
but because it no longer pretends
to offer safety
in motion.
What was once called progress
now echoes like silence
after the scream.
Sing the music of the future—
for they are lost.
They need to be found.
Sing for them.
They need to be found.
Not by maps,
not by stars,
but by memory
that refuses to die.
The future is not locked.
But it is cold.
And silent.
They are lost.
Sing for them.
Guide them home.
Not to what we were—
but to what we remembered
in the fire.
So we can be many again.
So we can burn again.
So we can rise
from silence
into song.
Sing for them.
To guide them.
To the fire.
Where truth still glows
beneath the ash.
The music will bring them.
Just sing it.
Guide them.