Prologue. Rain of lavender Absorbs me within Pale scent of September Coldwater neath my feet I. Electric skies Noisy winds Twisted roads Restless seas Barren fields Torn off peaks Smoldered Maps Laden eaves Silent void Ignited stars Chaos form This is me II. There was a time When each of us died In a future no one knew Rains were replaced By crimson red skies A space where nothing grew Oh, there was a time When each of us died In a future no one knew Eden's rains rearranged A hallowed morning rise A space where nothing grew The ending, only a memory Unveiled in someone's mind Playing the final major key Turning the final page III. The ending An organ chord of death In my mind Smashing the final major key Delivering the final page A black sun Clutching all inside A vortex Of mortal time Swirling Behind all eyes An ending To your climb To your futile climb Epilogue. Numb and drifting Through the nothingness My last sense fades away Feebly floating Into the emptiness I know there's no one there In the graveyard of creation Where planets fall to their death I am lost inside darkness As the universe takes its last breath

I. Days of faith and religion Enigma embedded meaning, -conjured believer eyes Scars breeding thought and devotion 'Cries' before the zoom: notions of the skies Antagonists end, a declaration Recoiling from the cross, inverted evil spawns Tenacious wave – and Energy imbued artifacts Science, I sang II. Will I ever find, A truth beyond His eyes Solemn words of mine Waiting to arrive Riddle solving mind Of origin spawning kind No I will not fail Going for the one Kinship grown from waters old Arithmetic fingers invoking light Nauseous heads departing from the cross Towards a more defined night III. When I took to the sea At night, guided by stars Sins of my reckless days Were all as if torn apart Renewed in silent insight - perhaps Only to see: a sight Narrated by the skies - untold Galactic seas Messenger of lies Eraser of screams Tuning the truth Asking for me Pillager of birth Heretics over seas You are the sons Sinews of me IV. In the year of the fox Circle of life Science has changed, the seasons of man Vehicle's departing Origin curtains fall In truth the end, to their endless advance Devourers!

I. Will the king play the fool for a day For his sake, for his kingdom, for man Does the horse hurl away its rider Who's strolling through life without a plan Will the rich rest on top of their glory On a journey over the snows Is a confession a part of the story When a new life begins to show Only those in jest will know. Are we deaf to the creature of the land Whose voice is lost between the trees Are the limits of our understanding Pale dividing lines absorbed in seas Where are those who in the dawn Dress in antlers and begin to row Will the end, tell us the tale Or simply merge us in the flow Only those in jest will know. II. A prison keeps us grounded It is a room, with no door The wall is being pounded And we lie, on the floor Although there is no door, We try to see To nurture our minds In silence and confusion We are left inside alone III. The king dressed in white antlers The horse denied its rider The rich were frozen in the snows The confession, a part of the show The creature spoke inside their minds Pillars formed up from the seas In the dawn those truths were mine And the end enclosed me Transcending time

Inside his solemn notions Outside the judging eyes His mind created potions His mind painted skies He walked celestial paths In the dusk, in the dawn But he is in the past Because of days so forlorn The castle, his creation Its halls were his home Perhaps exaggeration Yet tales to be told Master of his craft Commanding quill and ink But his mind did not last His vision blurred too dim He touched the truth too close Disturbed the halls of those Who gave him his soul Who let his mind roam All for his art He wrote his mind apart Confusing his soul In the end he was alone

Prologue. Mankind had reached a point of no return. The wheel that once had been set in motion by the Age of Enlightenment had now been lost in speed. There was no stopping it now. Each scientific discovery propelled the wheel onwards, accelerating the speed of evolution. And the prophets called it beautiful. They were scientists who'd gone mad of the power they now held, for after disproving the existence of God in the year 2359, they saw themselves as immortals. However, the universe was breaking at the seams, and soon the tear in the valve of the cosmos was too great, and the nothingness poured in, drowning the essence. At that point “Time” - as anyone would ever know it - stopped existing and merged with the nothingness. GODMACHINE HAS BEEN REACHED. I. The man stood at an edge of green While the abyss swirled around Inside the swirl, he could see The moon and stars and sun When he listened, with eager ears The abyss spoke in sound At that moment he realized What always had been done Time is lies Time is seconds Time is irony Time is death Time is key Time is smoke Time is light Time is end Time is not illusion But it's close Slimy circumfusion Bizarre prose Time is never there Where you were Particles in air Which we prefer II. The 'Idols' descended from the heavens in ca. 700 B.C. Earthen Time, although their visit was short, as this was a time of great unrest across the valve of the cosmos. When a transcendent being steps on 'mortal' ground his far more evolved aura causes a disease in those less advanced. That was when the Earthen man was afflicted with a DNA disorder that would on occasion spew forth anomalies, such as J.S. Bach and W. A. Mozart. When the 'Idols', (now called 'aliens') returned in 2109, mankind offered them the works of Bach and Mozart as proof of their advance, but the alien race was uninterested in mankinds boasting and sharing of what to them were just some ideas. Years earlier, there was a man who wrote a text that touched upon all these matters slightly, without him himself ever quite realizing it. Thousand years ago My kin and kind was born But our blood was cursed We were met with scorn Outside them we hide Observe, without discord We don't need their strife We lament their horde Soon mankind will face The stars and cosmos seas The valve casting night Opens for all to see That's how we'll die Physical form descends Futility and despair Inside a bitter end And I just despise All those who die Without a self Without a honest reason why Because they fall Within hype of the land Their fate always sealed By the ones in command Thus search yourself And question now Are you a clone To whom do you bow He is the Rotating Man His brain is made of marzipan He has no money and he has no fame He'll never be happy because it's a game! I am lies I am seconds I am irony I am death I am key I am smoke I am light I am end III. The archive, or THE archive, as most entities like to say, is a two dimensional planet hanging down from the valve of the cosmos, approximately 12 million light years from Earth and 700 million light years from the origin of space time. Its libraries and contents would later be hugely beneficial in the programming of the Oracle Machine, and the following song, The Grey Autumn in The House of Starlight, would be the tipping point for scientists who now would be able to understand themselves enough to understand the machine they were building. Walking to the city I see them burning The grey wind is moving the flames apart A black sound echoes through the mountains The cold rain guides it all around Outside the walls A man is laughing Their house is slowly crumbling down The acid sea boils beneath the heavens Ashen rain a curtain, window, crown IV. In some galaxies it was said that in the day of the apocalypse, the giant tapestry monster would break trough the valve of the cosmos and climb in; its feet as tall as the universe itself. His fury was not so much a rage than a duty to fulfill, like the Janitor who in the end of the day comes to clean all the toys left by the neighbor kids. It happened in a dream A voice inside of me Showed me burning skies Asked me to come by Before we would die And now I know his face The tapestry of deep space A being rather kind Although not designed Beyond time and mind I am the tapestry, the janitor, the caretaker And this valve is running out of time I am the fabric, the Godman, the deity And I've come to take you back The dream felt so real I almost did not see What he did to me To sanity I was blind To insanity entertwined Now I walk this road Ready to explode Trying to withdraw From the things I saw The things I saw in awe I am the watcher, the guardian, the leviathan And this valve is running out of time I am the particle, the first child, the giant And I've come to take you back V. In the end we simply embraced 6.53 by becoming to terms with 5.633, 5.641 and all the others above 6.0, most notably 6.522. We became aware of our own Eye, our programming. The man saw a plain of green While the abyss swirled around Behind the swirl, he could see The moon and stars and sun When he opened, his eager mind The abyss spawned through sound At that moment he realized What never had been done Epilogue. Perhaps it all was just a rare thunderstorm in spring...