I walk the banks of the stream of electric thought
For a ford back across
For here I am scattered, thoughts asunder, in tatters
No recollection of having crossed
The stream will always be found among the industrial sound
This is life in Metachthonia
But green can always be found among the industrial sound
There is still life in Metachthonia
The water runs so deep
I've seen so many taken by the will of the stream
But I must cross to the warmth of and the green of where I once was
The peace of life lived at my own will
The stream will always be found among the industrial sound
This is life in Metachthonia
But green can always be found among the industrial sound
There is still life in Metachthonia
♪
All you, welcome to Metachthonia
It's like the rustle of leaf to ground against the industrial sound
All you, welcome to Metachthonia
It's like the sun on your skin while the diodes draw you in
♪
It was verdant and the arching oaks swayed in a whispering wind
All quiet were the thorning groves, and shining lakes did brim
Then electric industry arrived, emitting its cold and lifeless light
Dendritic verdure did subside to oil and fumes and torbanite
It left and with it nature's realm, and air with cedar scent
And overhanging streets of elm with flowing branches bent
Although we see the trees around in this electric age
Yet nothing of old nature's old ways does seep into our veins
♪
And on her arm was flame alive, in ink it lashed the wind
A binding to primordial times when flame was close as kin
A binding to time when survival hung on reading
Stars on luminous galactic ceiling
Even before the scientific, even before, in life
We could reach the stars, we knew the stars
Known in analogue, but known well
Mapped, we knew them as hag, hunter, stag, and thunder
A binding to time when survival hung on reading
Stars on luminous galactic ceiling
When to reap the bearded grain
When to hunt the running game
If the sun should wake again from winter's slumbered plane
"Do you not take comfort in seeing the same stars as your ancestors?
If we must take strength from something greater than ourselves
For all that you hope and all that you are
Why not revere the sun and stars?"
Our forebears worshipped the sun
Our forebears worshipped the stars
Asteric understanding and far from without
Life immense in passion and pulse
♪
"Look at seven winters past, the changes to the world
What, in seven winters more, could dare to be revealed?
So now is pattern visible, and conversation opened
For us, the treaders on the cusp of now and coming moment
For in this age the choice is ours when to connect or flee
But soon's the time when we will learn the meaning of ubiquity"
"Look at seven winters past, the changes to the world
What, in seven winters more, could dare to be unfurled?
Think, Metachthonic, where does it end, the reach of electric nets?
Look at present, past, and future trend, and what they may beget"
Having spoke, she looked to the shimmering sky
She saw our past, present, future, and so did I
In the shower of ageless light, I understood
"Astronomer," I began
But when my eyes fell from the sky, she was gone