The Cycle
Round and round. The cycle isn’t the problem the problem is mistaking the loop for progress. Breaking without building. Grinding without gaining. The pattern doesn’t trap you. You volunteer.
Tracks
- 01 The Cycle 3:28
Original poem
Each moment consumes another the cycle persists Collision of dead stars Tearing through the black The patterns we're trapped in Prisoners of the known We are the cycle we are the grind breaking, never building desperate to find meaning where meaning has no meaning Familiar cracks are spreading Threads of what? if? When? The universe dissects Itself through us all again and again In every age and empire Our atoms burned and roamed Now cursed with distant memories where do we call home? Between the cracks of what we see the void expands where all possibilities completely refuse to be And it all will collapse into absurdity We're patterns Self-consuming desperate for a voice The truth beneath fragments of the known in spaces barely perceived nothing feels like home
Lyrics
Each moment consumes another The cycle the cycle persists Collision of dead stars Tearing through the black The patterns we're trapped in Prisoners of the known [break] [Chorus] We are the cycle We are the we are the grind Breaking and breaking, never building Desperate to find (We are the cycle) (We are the grind) [Verse 2] Familiar cracks are spreading Threads of what-if-when what-if-when The universe dissecting Itself through through us again In every age and empire Our atoms burned and roamed Now cursed with the mystery Of nowhere we call home [Chorus] We are the we are the cycle Grind-grind-grind Breaking, never building Desperate to desperate to find [Bridge] Between the cracks between the cracks Of what we see (what we see) The void where all- where all possibilities Refuse to be refuse to be Collapse into absurdity [pause] (You and me) (you and me) [Final Verse] Embers of broken suns Tearing through the noise We're patterns self-consuming Desperate for a desperate for a voice That never comes The truth beneath our breathing Fragments of the known of the known In spaces we're perceiving Nothing feels like home like home [Outro] We are the cycle We are the grind We are the question Never the answer we find