As night falls softly over the concrete ocean, the streets hum with music rarely heard. It is a symphony of synthetic stars, glimmering and vast, woven in the silence of dreams.
Do you remember the whispers that clutched the dawn, calling you to wake? They rustle like forgotten leaves, voices echoing above the electric mist. A lullaby made from fragments of the universe.
Here in the twilight, where realities converge, the sky dreams in synthetic hues. These are the lies we tell to paint the stars, to make them sing lullabies when the night grows tired.
These stars turn, ever so slowly, whispering secrets of tomorrow's past. Memories of things that have not yet happened, waiting to unfold in the creases of time's fabric.
The lullaby is a gentle push, a wave of color unseen. Close your eyes close your eyes close your eyes. Listen to the metal rain patter softly on the bruised ground.