Tomes Lyrics

Man stands, in the center of his hearth.
He is old, but in the late hours he can still be found tinkering away, with mind and fingers alike and aflutter.
"What a journey. Creativity remains a motion, worn down by unnecessary hands."
And through his hands, he watched his child glisten.
(An endless imprinting and reprinting. Conclusion: freedom.)

"I had a dream, last night,
That a plane stopped,
Hovering right over my town -
...And, dropped a bomb out the back...
And, instead of worrying about the people within the blast radius -
The people who would die first -
...I worried about myself.
...And only thought, about...
‘What if the flames would stop, before they got to me?'"

And so, he – the father, the teacher, the monster – now rose to belief. Death was not his friend.
He believed that he had snuck past Death, and conquered Self – and so he turned inward.

Death followed him into the open spaces.
Into his self-imposed catacomb, where tombs house the dead alone, he had been followed.

What would you do if the universe stopped?

(Followed...
Who's there?)